So, what are we brewing?
by Rosycheeks44
Summary: Draco and Harry get paired for a whole term of potions. They learn far more about one another than they do about poisons or antidotes, but Draco's always had an irritating habit of ruining things for himself.
1. Chapter 1

"You've _got_ to be _kidding_ me."

"Funnily enough, Mr Malfoy," Drawled Snape "I'm not."

 _Shit_. Had he said that out loud?

Professor Snape had been reading the list of pairs for the term; Pansy Parkinson was paired with Granger, Longbottom was with Blaise, Weasley was with the violet girl...was it violet?...Lavender! That's the one. Who on Earth would name their child after a _Plant?_ Draco Malfoy, who's name was latin for _Dragon,_ snorted internally.

Snape had been trawling through the list awfully slowly and had finally, after what felt like days, reached Draco's name. Draco couldn't believe his luck. Or his unluck, if that was even a word.

He was paired with _Potter._

Stupidly perfect, heroic, scar-faced _Potter_. _Potter_ who could ride a broomstick as though he had been doing it since birth. _Potter_ who had the most loyal friends, the love of all the Hogwarts teachers (aside from Snape, of course), a whole first year fan base led by Colin Creevey, the love of most of the entire wizarding population (aside from Voldemort, obviously) and the respect of Merlin himself, _probably_.

Draco scoffed, and apparently swore aloud.

"As I was saying," Continued Snape, pushing his thick, grease-coated hair out of his face, "You will be working with your pair for the rest of term so I suggest you make an effort to tolerate them." He said this with a pointed glance at Harry and Draco.

Everyone at Hogwarts knew of their rivalry, and from the outside it probably appeared to be normal teenage angst. Just two boys from opposite sides of the pond feuding for the top spot of some psychological podium. But it wasn't quite what it seemed.

Draco had been angered by Harry since first year, after making what Draco thought to be a rather great first impression in 'Madame Malkin's robes for all occasions' he was sure Harry would want to be his friend. Aside from his father speeches about the benefits of a friendship with the famous Harry Potter, Draco wanted to be his friend because he was utterly intrigued by his story. A boy, no more than one years old, able to defeat the most powerful dark wizard of all time. Merely the thought of such power had the Malfoy's heir itching to meet this phenomenon.

But things had worked out quite differently. Harry wanted nothing to do with Draco, instead choosing to stick with the boy of orange and freckle, known as Ron Weasley, and the bushy haired Hermione Granger.

It had bothered Draco at the time, bewildered him in fact. But after all these years it had turned into more than anger, it was pure and utter _jealousy._ Harry had fame and a heroic backstory, Draco had his father constantly badgering him about upholding the family name. Harry had a girlfriend, or so Draco had thought up until last year when Blaise Zabini reliably informed him that Potter was, as Blaise had so eloquently put it, "Gay as shit."

This news in particular, caused Draco to snort so viciously that his pumpkin juice he'd been drinking had shot up through his mouth and straight into his nose.

You see, not only was Draco jealous of Potter but he was _extremely_ attracted to him. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, other than Pansy Parkinson after two bottles of firewhiskey. He'd barely admitted it to himself at first, but with Harry's thick black hair, that was "messy, but not bad messy..like just got out of bed kind of sexy messy, you know?" (as Draco had explained to Pansy) and his perfect mahogany skin, it was _undeniable._

After explaining the term of potions up ahead, Snape turned to the front of the classroom and began scrawling on the blackboard.

He was dragging the chalk across the blackboard so that it screeched mercilessly, he could have just used magic, but why do something as simple as that when you can torture a bunch of kids with a hair-raisingly gross sound, right?

The board told them they were to be making the 'draught of death', which Draco thought extremely appropriate as he very much wanted to die at that moment.

Harry approached him slowly, as though he were a ticking time bomb about to explode.

The shorter boy nodded slowly, "Malfoy."

"Potter."

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, if we're going to be working together for the rest of term we might as well make an effort to get along." He said this slowly, still eyeing Malfoy as though he might detonate the classroom at any second.

"Sounds reasonable. But, just so you know, I fully intend on returning to hating you afterwards."

Harry saluted him jokingly then turned to gather the ingredients for their potion.

This was going to be a _long_ term.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone, just thought I'd mention before this chapter that it's set in Harry and Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts. I've excluded Slughorn and replaced him with Snape. Harry did discover the Half blood prince's book but did so in the previous term, unlike canon, and hid it in the room of requirement, like canon. Also he's kept a few more helpful notes from the book and copied them into a fresh sixth year one.**

 **I think that's all, enjoy!**

The first 10 minutes of potion brewing had gone without incident, but sadly fate had it in for Draco that chilly Tuesday morning.

The silver haired Slytherin had just finished adding the sloth's brain to their potion when he chanced a glance to his left and saw Harry, crushing their sopophorous beans with a silver blade.

" Potter what _are_ you doing?"

"Extracting the juice." Harry replied, sounding very pleased with himself.

"The book says to _cut_ the beans! Now I know those muggles you were raised by probably didn't teach you how to read and you're just covering it up with an alibi of bad eyesight, but this potion is-"

"Take a breath Malfoy. Read" Harry pointed to his book with a long, stubby nailed finger. By the instruction 'cut the sopophorous beans', in the worst handwriting Draco had ever had the displeasure of seeing, was written 'crush - releases juice better'.

Draco scoffed

" _You_ wrote that yourself you bloody imbeci-"

"Yes I did," Interrupted Harry once more "But _I_ got it from _another_ book."

Draco stared at him slack jawed. He'd done it, Potter's stupidity had finally broken him.

"Look Malfoy, just trust me. Kay?"

He could only manage a small nod.

Harry happily released the juice of the 13-

"Thirteen Potter! No no no, the book says twelv-"

"Trust Malfoy. Essential in every type of relationship."

Harry said, smiling knowingly, then continued,

"I'm not trying to sabotage you Malfoy. How does that saying go? Uhm..know thy enemy, right? Well I'm here, your enemy, and you know me, right? What else could go wrong?"

"I'm..I."

Potter's utter nonsensical ideas had rendered Draco speechless.

Harry moved Draco aside, gently gripping his shoulders, contact which the blonde tried very hard to ignore, and continued with the potion himself.

It was 15 minutes later when Snape began making his way through the classroom, dropping a small leaf into everyone's potions to check whether or not they were correct.

He reached Neville Longbottom, who was one seat away from Draco and Harry. Neville's body practically caved in on itself as Snape fixed him with a beady stare.

"Your turn, Mr Longbottom." Snape snarled, maliciously.

He slowly released a leaf into Neville's cauldron while said boy hid behind Blaise Zabini.

The entire class waited in anticipation, even Blaise was squinting with fear. Any second now the potion would turn into some giant gooey monster and eat them all. Any second…..

…...Nothing.

Neville let out a long, shaky breath and Snape looked extremely disappointed. The leaf gently dissolved as it should, indicating that the potion was indeed corre-

BANG!

The cauldron blew apart into tiny fragmented pieces and the potion lurched upwards, now a thicker consistency. It landed in a blob on Snape's mop of dirty hair.

Neville leaped beneath the desk, clutching his knees, and began frantically rocking back and forth.

"Detention for a month, Mr Longbottom." Snapped Snape, who tilted his head so the pile of gloop landed on the floor with a plop.

"But what about Blaise?!" Came a squeaky voice from the front of the class, it was Hermione. "If Neville's going to be punished then surely Blaise should b-"

"Silence! 50 points from Gryffindor for your dull assumption and rude interruption, Miss Granger."

Hermione let out a meek squeaking sound then directed her gaze at the floor.

Draco had an awful feeling of dread sinking to the bottom of his stomach, if Neville's potion had exploded then what would there's do? Hopefully Snape would only punish Potter if something went wrong but the thought of that seemed to anger Draco as well.

Snape hovered over their cauldron and eyed Harry with disdain.

"Let's see what you've got, Mr Potter."

He dropped the leaf in and it landed smoothly on the surface of their watery potion. It sat for half a second then gently dissolved.

Draco blinked hard. _Surely_ it hadn't been right.

But Potter was wearing that unmistakable victory smile and Snape avoided his eyes as he silently walked to the next pair.

How typical. Potter hadn't followed the instructions yet it had worked out for him anyway, Draco could only dream of being so fortunate.

"See?" Harry said, his smile not fading. "Maybe we make a good team after all, Malfoy."

Draco sighed in exasperation.

This boy, this beautifully annoying boy, would surely be the death of him.

"Maybe."


	3. Chapter 3

Draco was furious.

He knew he shouldn't be, really. It was quite bloody typical of Potter to perfect an extremely difficult potion without any apparent advantage, other than some book he'd copied from in his inky scrawl. He should have been happy, they'd brewed the best potion in class, even Hermione's hair was standing on end in utter jealousy. But for some reason Draco was unable to shoot her his best slytherin smirk.

Maybe it was the fact that Potter had come out on top again, that he'd been able to flawlessly execute the draught of death without so much as a trickle of sweat sliding down his smooth forehead. Or maybe it was the look of pure Gryffindor pride he'd worn afterwards, the one resulting in a handsome smile that caused creases around his gleaming green eyes. Or maybe it was Potter's remark about he and Draco making a good team. Or maybe it was all three. Either way, Draco wasn't happy.

He'd pushed his food around his plate at lunch for around 15 minutes, staring fixedly at the oak table packed with plates of steaming potatoes, chicken and vegetables. Until Pansy Parkinson clicked her manicured fingers in his face and asked in a shrill voice "What on Earth is wrong with you today, Draco?"

His grey eyes shot up at her, pinning her with stone-like stare. One of his blonde eyebrows raised in question.

Pansy continued, "You haven't said a word since you sat down, I asked you a question five minutes ago and it was like you hadn't even _heard_ me."

He had. But Pansy's upcoming birthday celebration wasn't exactly the most riveting conversational point.

"I'm sincerely sorry, dear Pansy. It seems I've forgotten the _entire universe_ revolves around _you_." He drawled, head tilted upwards in a sneer that he'd been perfecting since the age of 5.

Pansy's pug face screwed up even tighter than usual as she scoffed, a Slytherin trademark, but something that lacked the coolness Draco's demeanor possessed. She shot up from the table with gritted teeth and a breathy "Merlin!" then sped away, her crop of brown hair swaying ferociously.

Both Crabbe and Goyle eyed Draco cautiously, before the blonde Slytherin decided to leave himself.

As Draco rose from the table he chanced a glance at the Gryffindor table, where Harry was laughing freely, clearly amused at something the weasel said as Granger giggled beside him, blushing gently. As Harry laughed, a piece of his thick, tangle of hair fell in front of his face to cover his infamous scar. His green eyes reflected the few rays of sun streaming in through the windows of the great hall, his skin practically golden in the light. September was always rather chilly in Scotland, the cold stones of the castle doing nothing to aid any heat but of course Harry _bloody_ Potter was illuminated in the rare beams of sun that sometimes made short appearances.

He was utterly gorgeous and Draco hated him.

He hated him with every bone, every nerve, every inch of soft tissue and skin that made up his body.

He hated him because in truth, deep down he knew, he didn't really hate him at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry gasped for air as he sat up stiffly. He slid his glasses up his sweat-slicked nose and lay propped up on one elbow for a few moments, catching his breath until it was steady.

He checked his watch that was lying unclasped on his bedside table.

 _03:58_

He sighed exasperatedly, running one hand through his damp hair.

He set his head back down onto his pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Harry knew there was no point trying to sleep now, after carefully analysing his nightmare, unable to stop re-living it as usual, the morning light would already begin to seep through the maroon curtains surrounding Harry's bed, plus, Ron was snoring particularly loudly and mumbling something about spiders stealing his chicken legs.

He sighed once more and began the inevitable search through the flashbacks of his dream.

This one had been particularly intense, an impending darkness seemed to seep through the corners of his mind as he was ambushed with flashing, head splintering images.

 _Cedric's abruptly cruel death, the cold touch of Voldemort's long, marble fingers. The headache inducing cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange's laugh and her high pitched chanting - 'I killed Sirius Black!' - seemed to echo behind all of the memories, along with the screams of his mother, from the night she was murdered._

Harry's head was beginning to throb and his eyes felt dry and tired. Looking back over the nightmare made his heart practically ache, after several dementor attacks during his third year at Hogwarts and the various nightmares that had followed, he had become familiar with the agonising screams of his mother, yet they never failed to devastate him whenever they echoed in his subconscious.

People like Remus, Sirius and Dumbledore had always described his mother in such a positive light. He was constantly assured that she had been bubbly and intelligent yet all he had to hold on to were her dying words. Even with the other pieces of Lily Potter, what he saw in the Mirror of Erised and his brief connection with her in the graveyard during the Triwizard tournament, it still tortured Harry that she was such a stranger to him. He didn't know the happy, vibrant young girl everyone else remembered, he didn't know _anything._ A few pictures and some small recollections of her voice would never, _could never,_ be enough.

His father was a whole other story, he had even _less_ of James Potter. It seemed slightly odd considering Remus and Sirius had been closer to his father than anyone and people constantly told Harry how much he reminded them of James. It almost evoked a sense of bitterness from him every time someone said -'Gosh, you know, you're so much like your father, Harry. Has anyone ever told you that?'- He almost felt like saying ' _Yes, funnily enough almost everyone tells me that, though I can't relate because I've never actually met my father. But I'm so glad you can relive your memories of him through me, in fact why don't I say your next observation for you? I have my mother's bloody eyes, don't I?'_

He knew Professor Lupin had good intentions when he'd first brought up how similar Harry was to his late father however, it still hurt. It always would.

 _Tap Tap Tap Tap._

Harry stirred for a moment before rubbing his eyes roughly, causing stars to infiltrate his vision. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, only that he'd quite literally 'thunk' himself to exhaustion.

 _Tap Tap Tap TAP TAP TAP!_

He padded over to the window, wincing at the coldness of the floor on his bare feet. Hedwig was impatiently pecking at the glass and beating her fluffy wings in irritation. Harry unlatched the pane, letting Hedwig swoop inside to land on his shoulder softly. He plucked the rolled up issue of the Quibbler, (Luna had offered him a free subscription), from her claws as she nipped his ear fondly, Harry was stroking her wing absent-mindedly when a sudden realisation hit him.

Hedwig had brought the post to the _dorm._ The very _empty_ dorm.

He practically leapt across the floor and onto his bed, reaching for the watch on the beside table.

 _09:05_

 _Shit!_


	5. Chapter 5

10 minutes of the lesson had already passed when Harry barged into the room, his hair impossibly messy and his glasses askew.

The first thing Draco noticed was how Potter was frantically trying to flatten his unkempt hair, but to no avail of course, the black mass seemed to stick out at every angle imaginable. The second thing, was how _tired_ Potter looked. Deep seated, dark circles ghosted beneath his glinting eyes, his usual lopsided grin was missing and his uniform was much sloppier than usual.

A silence seemed to pass over the classroom as Potter stumbled over to his seat beside Draco, but the pupil's eyes weren't on Harry, they were all directing their gazes toward Professor Snape. Draco was positive that many were conducting a silent prayer for the chosen one, and for their precious Gryffindor points.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr Potter?" Snape practically spat as he edged closer to their desk, pinning Harry with an unnerving stare past his long hooked nose.

"M'sorry Professor, overslept." Harry mumbled. Or at least that's what Draco thought he'd heard. Potter was speaking in such a nervous undertone, it was difficult to make out the words.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor for your tardiness Potter." Snape said through gritted teeth. To any randomer he would have seemed livid, but Draco had observed his head of house for quite some time and could spot the signs of Snape's internal enjoyment at punishing Harry.

Harry's reply of "Yes, sir.." was practically a whisper and his cheeks were beginning to show signs of a blush. Draco took it upon himself to turn his head and send a pointed glare across the room, snapping the rest of the class out of their trance and back to scratching down ingredients for their potions.

Once the class had settled into comfortable chatter Draco turned back to Harry, he really did look awful. His collar and tie were completely dishevelled and he was currently tearing through the loose sheets of parchment in his bag. He grumbled lowly and mumbled something consisting of the words " _forgotten..bloody..stupid...book."_

"No worries Potter," Draco said evenly, despite Harry's head snapping up in surprise, "You can just share mine." He continued, moving his potion's book between them.

More inaudible mumbling left Potter's mouth so Draco just assumed it was some form of thanks.

They were supposed to be brewing the 'Draught of peace', which Draco thought Potter would definitely benefit from sampling, Snape had informed them of the sheer level of difficulty faced when brewing it but Draco was particularly confident at potions so decided to take on the task alone. Besides, Potter looked far too drowsy to even boil some water, let alone brew a potion of such a high skill level.

Draco sent him to retrieve the ingredients as he didn't want Harry to be scolded for lack of participation. When Potter returned with an armful of ingredients - A Hellebore flower, one Unicorn horn, porcupine quills, moonstone and a jar of lacewing flies - Draco didn't have the heart to tell him that the Draught of peace didn't require lacewing flies, instead he settled for thanking Harry with a brief flash of a smile.

As Draco began grinding the moonstone into a fine powder he glanced at Harry who was slumped beside him. Harry was staring at the jar of flies intensely, gnawing on his lower lip, clearly stuck in some spiral of chaotic thought. There was one fly in particular that was pressed against the side of the glass, wings bent unnaturally, legs flung out in different directions.

"That one looks like he met quite a shitty end, doesn't he?" Draco remarked dryly.

Harry blinked harshly, his eyes meeting the squashed fly. "Oh," He murmured "Yeah," He replied, laughing breathily. Seeming grateful for the distraction Harry continued, more audibly, "D'ya think he had a family?"

"Probably." Draco wasn't quite sure how to continue, conversing casually with Potter was unusual for him but he couldn't help but feel sorry for Harry. It was entirely uncharacteristic for Harry to act so glum, considering how vibrant he normally seemed.

"I wonder if they're in there too.." Harry continued.

Draco couldn't stop the smile that was creeping across his lips.

"Don't get too sentimental Potter, or we'll have to have a funeral."

Harry exhaled what seemed like a laugh then set his head in his hands. He looked across at Draco, who was now adding the second batch of powdered moonstone to their cauldron. Draco observed what he could only perceive as an oddly hopeful glint in Potter's eyes, so decided to roll with it. He unscrewed the lid of the jar and reluctantly pulled out the misshapen fly with a pair of silver tweezers.

After placing the fly onto the desk Draco coughed purposefully and began in a sorrowful voice, "We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of a dearly lost friend…"

Harry practically choked and a cheeky grin was emerging from the corners of his mouth.

"Sam. His name's Sam." He supplied.

Draco raised one perfect blonde brow, "Really, Potter? How awfully mundane of you," But continued nonetheless, "We are gathered to celebrate the life of Samuel Malfoy, the first."

Harry was choking up once more, broad shoulders bobbing up and down.

"He was an ambitious, cunning and incredibly resourceful asset to Slytherin house and will be mi-"

"-Ugh no way! Sam was a Gryffindor!" The raven haired boy protested.

Draco rolled his eyes, then pursed his lips in momentary thought.

"You know what, I think you're right, Potter. He would have had to be a Gryffindor to meet such a foolish and undignified end. What a prat."

Harry's eyes were welling with tears, which would have alarmed Draco if it weren't for the barking laugh that followed. Harry's eyes crinkled sweetly and his tongue lolloped as he caught his breath. He breathed deeply, almost threatening to burst into further laughter as he bit down on the smile gracing his face.

It was a harsh and cold voice that ripped Draco from his haze of watching Potter.

"Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, your potion is _boiling_! It's supposed to be _Simmering_!"

Draco almost gave himself whiplash as he turned towards their cauldron urgently, he attempted to lower the heat but knew there was no saving it now. The temperature of the draught of peace had to be precariously timed with the adding of the ingredients, it was too late.

"Detention. Both of you. I've never seen such incompetence in the face of such a delicate potion. Well, aside from Mr Longbottom of course." Snape Seethed, as Neville turned a deep shade of crimson that almost seemed to seep into the roots of his light, golden hair.

It was rather humiliating, for Draco, to ruin a potion because he was far too distracted with concern for Potter and pure adoration when watching his fit of laughter.

But despite the detention and embarrassment, Draco felt alarmingly content.

Potter's charmingly lopsided grin was back once more, and _he_ had been the cause of it.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco entered the Slytherin dorms with particular vigor, he was still riding on the high of having civilised banter and inside jokes with Potter.

The look on Harry's face would forever be cemented in his mind; the wriggle of his nose as he was caught in a fit of laughter, the glint of his eyes when he was adding to the joke and that smile. _Merlin._ It was enough to make Draco melt into the floor and become an oozing puddle of admiration.

Luckily, the students who were still filtering into the common room were a few paces behind him, therefore they couldn't see the look of joy Draco was trying so hard to contain.

He flopped onto his silk sheets and sighed happily. It was rather pathetic, he thought, that one short afternoon with Potter was enough to turn him into some lovesick fool. But he decided he'd start the demeaning and inevitable process of self deprecation later. For now he was content to lie down, face up towards the ceiling and breathe out all of the complex emotions that were twisting in his stomach.

This was a new feeling for Draco, a completely alien experience. It wasn't jealousy or anger or bitterness, or even attraction. It was fondness. He couldn't show it, or preferably do anything about it, but there it was. The most tender feeling that seemed to flutter in his chest and spread out a heavy warmth that reached his fingertips. It felt so innocent and uncorrupted by anything else in the world because it was _his_ feeling, _his_ secret.

It was a result of finally talking to Harry, as a person rather than a competitor. He'd taken a moment to really _look_ at him, contrary to the usual spat out insult and brief glance in the corridor. He'd seen him up close, noticed how low Harry seemed, with his bird's nest of hair peeking out from where he'd laid his head in his hands. For the first time he'd viewed Harry as something other than 'Potter' or 'the chosen one'; he'd viewed him as a tired, stressed, 16 year old boy, with the weight of a troubled past and the captivation of the wizarding world resting firmly on his shoulders. He wasn't 'Saint Potter', he was just _Harry._

A sharp tapping at the window pulled the Slytherin out of his thoughts. A black and white eagle owl hovered outside, stark against the pale pink sky. As Draco pulled the glass to, the owl swooped in and landed gracefully on his bedpost.

"Hello Nuntius."

The owl ruffled her feathers lightly in response as Draco untied the letter from her talon.

He held the thick cream envelope in his hand for a moment, turning it over to see a red wax seal, embedded with the Malfoy crest he'd anticipated. A feeling of dread sank to the pit of his stomach. This was not his mother's stationary so the letter was undoubtedly from his father.

He swallowed a mouthful of bile that was slowly sliding up his throat and peeled back the envelope. Pulling out a letter of the same stationary, his eyes caught sight of his father's unmistakable cursive.

After a long shaky breath, he began to read….

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry arrived at detention early that evening, desperate to be punctual for _something._ He settled down into a stool near the front of the class silently, feeling self conscious whilst under the cold stare of Snape who was marking papers at his desk.

The air felt thick with silence and a minute stretched out awkwardly, the tension pierced only by the sound of Snape's quill scratching on to parchment.

Harry was actually grateful when Malfoy burst through the door, his satchel swinging from his shoulder as he weaved through the desks. He was avoiding Harry's eye so his expression was rather hard to define, but by the way he slammed his bag onto the table it was rather easy to guess the sort of mood he was in.

"So," Snape began, pushing back the greasy streaks of hair falling over his face, "I've been rather busy lately and have yet to clean the store cupboard. I want it done within an hour. You can be assured that I will ask you to do it again if I am not satisfied with your efforts."

Malfoy huffed in frustration, but Harry was rather thankful for the mildness of the task. He had been worried Snape would ask them to dissect something or other.

With a pointed glance at Harry, the potions professor was out of the door, dark robes billowing behind him.

The platinum haired Slytherin heaved himself off of the stool and stormed over to the storage unit, plucking a raggedy cloth from a hook on the door. Harry followed him in, doing the same. There was a bottle in the corner of the boxy room that looked like disinfectant. Harry poured some onto his cloth and began sterilising any surfaces while Malfoy polished the jars.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, the picking up and setting down of glass was the only sound to be heard.

Harry chanced a sideways glance at Malfoy. He looked extremely tense, his shoulders were squared and his lips were pulled downwards in a tight frown. One strand of blonde hair fell forward into his eye and he swiped it away angrily, raking his hand through his hair, he turned to face Harry.

"What?" He spat.

Malfoy's grey eyes bore into Harry's green ones, they looked darker than usual, almost _hostile_. He'd never thought eyes could be so expressive, yet here he was reading Malfoy's irises like an open scroll.

"Are you alright?" The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.

For a split second Malfoy looked taken aback, but a cool expression glazed his features all too quickly, demonstrating how well practiced he was in masking any emotion.

"Fine." He replied shortly, turning back to his polishing.

A few more minutes passed and the hollow atmosphere was interrupted once more by a low cough.

Harry quickly turned his head to peer at Malfoy but the taller boy was facing away from him, head tilted towards the floor. He watched the blonde for what felt like an eternity until he realised Malfoy was shaking. Almost instinctively Harry reached out a tender hand and placed it on the Slytherin's shoulder. A feeling of relief overcame him as he realised the gesture hadn't been rebuffed. They stood there for a while, Harry's hand resting on the other boy's shoulder, in silence. Harry hadn't felt himself move closer but it seemed that his mouth was almost touching Malfoy's ear.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked, softly, his hand slid from Draco's shoulder to the crook in his neck. Harry felt the heat radiating through the black robes. If it weren't for how close he was standing, Harry would have missed the small shiver that emitted from Draco's body when he spoke in his ear.

The blonde shook his head then his entire body stiffened abruptly.

"We should get back to work, We only have an hour." He muttered.

Harry coughed and retracted his hand immediately, the loss of contact made it feel as though he'd imagined the entire thing. "M'yeah." He agreed quietly.

They finished the job in silence. A tense and heavy silence that seemed to make the small room feel isolated from the outside world. Harry found himself making a conscious effort to set the boxes and jars down particularly loudly in order to relieve the stillness for even a second.

The hour crawled by painfully until Snape returned, he approved their work with a curt nod, and they departed without a word.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco successfully managed to avoid Harry for two days, until Saturday morning saw Potter smacking into him as he rounded a corner on his way to the Great hall.

"Bloody hell Potter, watch yourself." Draco seethed, more annoyed at being caught off guard than anything else.

"Sorry." Harry muttered, trying to adjust his glasses. His hair was extremely mussed, even more so than usual after colliding with Draco.

He peered up and Draco with those earnest green eyes, and Draco could practically see Potter battling with himself internally. Harry was extremely fascinating, where Draco was a closed book, Harry was easier to read than anyone he'd ever met. Any twinge of confusion was shown with a crinkle of his thick brows, discomfort through a small wiggle of his nose and glee through the upturn of his tan lips.

Potter had a question balancing on the end of his tongue, and the seconds of contemplation felt like stretched out minutes of suspense conducted to taunt Draco.

With a short inbreath and a subtle nod, almost to himself, Potter's eyes solidified with his decision. "How are you, Draco?"

Draco let out a short laugh. The struggle in Harry's face had been so clear, it made it seem as though the question he was preparing to ask was the most important thing in the world. But what had finally tumbled out was small talk, even though Potter's face was extremely intense, as green bore into grey.

"Fine, Potter." Draco made to move around Harry but was quickly stopped by a hand on his upper arm.

"I know we're not exactly friends, Draco, but something was clearly bothering you the other day and you should know..that.."

One soft blonde brow raised as Harry trailed off, Draco noticed the warmth of contact had not yet left his arm.

Harry coughed and regained his focus "You should know that you're not alone." He said this with such conviction that Draco could have weeped, concern was etched all over the wrinkles in Harry's forehead. The fact that the concern was for _Draco_ did magnificent and revolting things to his stomach, tightening it with nerves and questions he'd never have the guts to ask.

"I _do_ have friends, Potter." The reply came out extremely mechanically and slipped out with practiced malevolence. The frown that surfaced on Potter's lips and reached all the way up to his glistening eyes caused a lump in Draco's throat. Harry was reaching out to him and he was pushing him away without a second thought. He hated it.

Draco made to move away once more and this time Potter didn't stop him, he felt the warm hand fall from his arm and the loss of contact instantly wounded him.

Before even thinking about it Draco turned back to face the boy "..But thank you, Harry." The warmth that seeped through his voice surprised even himself and Harry's face practically lit up at hearing his first name. Draco turned on his heel and walked away promptly, feeling heat rise to his pale cheeks.

Saying Potter's first name had felt endearing, almost _intimate._ When Harry had first coined Draco's name in the Potion store cupboard it had startled him, and he'd secretly admitted to liking how the name sounded when spoken by Potter. But saying _Harry's name_ had caused the fluttering feeling of adoration to resurface and beat between his ribs.

He tried to cast Harry out of his mind as he sped to the Great hall for breakfast. None of this would be happening if he hadn't pathetically broken down during detention, Draco had scolded himself over that for hours afterwards, but the letter he'd received from his father continued to bother him. It seemed that Lucius had opened a letter from Draco, intended for his mother, detailing his Ancient runes homework, in which he'd been awarded one less mark than Granger.

The letter spoke of much more but of course that was what his father had chosen to focus on. So Lucius had written to his son, an essay of a letter scolding Draco for 'losing' to a 'mudblood'. He spoke of the same drabble he usually did, about Draco's responsibility of upholding the Malfoy name and putting muggleborns in their rightful place.

The letter had irritated Draco, slicing into the elated feeling he'd previously been enjoying. It was a harsh reminder that Draco could never live a free life, he'd have to take up a career and a lover that his father approved of, he'd never be able to choose someone out of love let alone choose a _bloke._ He couldn't even imagine coming out to his father, he'd masterfully dodged Lucius' suggestions of taking up Pansy Parkinson as a partner for years, claiming that she simply wasn't his type. Not one bit.

But being chided about his Pureblood responsibilities wasn't what caused Draco to break down, it was the closing line of the letter that had truly affected him; _I am ending your correspondence with your mother for the rest of term, I shall not have my own family keeping secrets from me, especially not in my own home._

Upon reading the sentence the lump in Draco's throat plummeted to the base of his stomach like a stone. His letters to his mother were indispensable to him, she had always brought the boy immeasurable comfort since he was small. Her elegant cursive delivered advice, reassurance and Narcissa's specifically subtle humour every week, he'd come to rely on his mother's responses to his never ending list of questions about life. Each sheet of her stationary smelt of her perfume, the scent brought a lightness to his heart and soothed indefinitely, it acted as a reminder that no matter what happened, she would _always_ be there to come home to. Lucius was most likely unaware of the ease Narcissa's letter brought Draco, but the young Slytherin still despised his father for ripping it away from him.

When he reached the Slytherin table his face was contorted with the depth of thought he was in but Pansy's shrill voice soon snapped him out of his intense trance.

"Draco, you look positively ill." She remarked, cropped hair swaying as she shook her head.

"Thanks, Pans." The blonde replied, there was no venom in his voice.

"We were just talking about my party." She said, tapping the space beside her for him to sit.

"Oh?"

"Blaise says he can get at least three crates of firewhiskey." She squealed, eyes wide with excitement.

"Brilliant, I could do with getting bladdered. Count me in."

Pansy's pug face twisted into a devious smirk, Draco could guess what she was thinking but couldn't summon the energy to care.

Besides, he really could do with a drink.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco strolled into the Great hall on Monday feeling refreshed. He'd had a quiet weekend where his main goal had been deterring his thoughts from wondering to a particular Gryffindor. He'd done quite a bit of reading, finished an essay for Professor McGonagall on the implications of error in human transfiguration and managed to escape the dorms for a brief fly on Sunday evening.

He'd decided to completely cast Harry from his mind, even though Harry had been shooting him empathetic looks throughout breakfast on Sunday. Draco convinced himself that Potter's reaching out to him was clearly an attempt at satisfying his deeply twisted hero complex, yes, that was _definitely_ it. Besides, even if there was any chance at a friendship between the two it could only end in flames, they were simply far too different to be considered anything other than destructive. Not to mention that Draco didn't trust himself to control any impulses to escalate the friendship, not that Potter would _ever_ want to. But hypothetically speaking Draco imagined that any relationship they could forge would either end in a terrifying blaze of fury or simply fade away when Harry decided he could do better, like embers fluttering from a dying fire.

He took his usual spot at the table beside Pansy, flashing her a vacant smile. However, his brief moment of calm soon expired when he noticed her squinted eyes and squashed lips, marking her signature look of mischief.

"What have you done?" He asked flatly, noticing the devious glint in her eyes.

Pansy placed one hand on her chest in mock surprise and opened her mouth like a Goldfish.

"Why, Draco, we have been friends for years, do you not trust me by now?" She asked, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

Draco scoffed and turned his attention to the food laid out in front of him, Pansy was clearly desperate to unveil her scheme so there was no need to coax the answer out of her.

"We were just discussing my party," she began casually, "well, more specifically whether Potter will be able to make it or not.." She trailed off, biting her plump lower lip while waiting for Draco's reaction.

"You..y-what? You invited him?" Draco could barely articulate a response.

Pansy laughed dryly. "Yes, I invited him."

"Why?" Draco spluttered, eyes darting to the Gryffindor table to eye Harry suspiciously.

Pansy pondered for a moment, "House unity." She decided.

"House unity?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice even, "Fine, I'll buy it. Which other Gryffindors are invited?"

"Well…" Pansy began, lips twisting down, she was clearly trying to improvise. She sighed defeatedly and set her hands on the table. "Look Draco," She tried again, her murky green eyes focusing on him seriously, "You've been infatuated with Potter for an agonisingly long period of time a-"

"Keep your voice down Parkinson." Draco seethed in a hushed tone.

The girl rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Oh Draco, they already know." She said, motioning to Blaise and Theo, who were both desperately trying to seem as though they hadn't been listening in.

Draco's eyes widened in uncharacteristic shock.

Pansy smiled sympathetically. "Your obsession with Potter is much more transparent than you like to think, especially since we've known you for six years."

Draco's shoulders dropped and he let out a shaky sigh of relief. He'd come out to his small group of friends in 4th year, when he was going through the tornado of emotions that comes with realising your sexuality. But he could never imagine them finding out about his tangle of feelings towards Potter. It was a similar sensation, a rush of cool air exhaling from his lungs, leaving him feeling slightly lightheaded but relaxed all the same.

Pansy placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder and smiled warmly.

"Talk to him, Draco. When he comes, which I'm sure he will, talk to him like you talk to us," She gestured to the fellow Slytherin boys once more, "show him the _real_ Draco Malfoy." She finished with a pleading look.

"You soppy dunce." he remarked with a small smile.

The girl chuckled lightly, then her face set into a look of focus once more. "I do mean it though, Draco. This obsession with Potter will become destructive if you don't do _something_ about it."

Draco recalled the moment in potions when Harry had flashed him a victorious smile after perfecting the draught of death. He remembered thinking that Potter's charming grin would most likely cause his demise somehow.

"I know."


	9. Chapter 9

It was so like Snape to give them a surprise test first thing in the morning.

He was relishing the disgruntled faces of each pupil as he handed them their papers, grumbling an angry "Quiet!" here and there as Seamus, Dean and Ron groaned.

Draco felt fairly confident, Potions was his forte after all and he'd been reading up on the topic excessively in order to distract himself from his Harry dilemma. He looked over his shoulder towards the door and wondered where on Earth Potter could be. Waiting for him to come barging in hurriedly with his messy mop of hair reminded him of first year, when Harry had sprinted into McGonagall's class with Weasley in tow. Her reprimanding, although mild, had embarrassed him, though it clearly hadn't affected him much as he had been late most days since.

Harry stumbled through the door less than a minute later, Snape lifted his head to face Harry, "10 points, Potter." He spat.

Harry simply nodded, looking relieved Snape had not deducted more. He took his seat beside Draco, slumping his ripped satchel beside him.

"Y'know you could just use a simple mending charm on that right?" Draco mumbled, but Harry seemed more focused on the paper laying on the desk in front of Draco.

He groaned loudly and pinched the bridge of nose in exasperation. "Test?"

Draco let out a small 'mhm' in response, his mind was more focused on other matters. He waited until after Snape glided over to pass Harry a test paper then took one calming breath.

"So, Harry, are you going to Pansy's party?"

Harry eyed him almost suspiciously, well it could have been any expression actually but Draco was trying to avoid those glistening green eyes that always seemed to dissolve any intelligence he once harboured.

"Honestly, I'm not really sure why I was even _invited_." He responded, brows furrowed and lips quirked up at the right corner.

Draco felt panic overcome him, he wanted Harry to go but how was he going to convince him? Moreover, what excuse did he have for Pansy extending an invitation to him? His palms felt extremely clammy, he wiped them on his robes trying to set his face into a cool expression. He went to speak but his throat hitched, so he inhaled through his nose, swallowed and tried again, "House unity?" He supplied, mimicking Pansy's own words as much more a question than a reason.

Harry let out a hollow laugh, "I'm not so sure."

Draco felt his shoulders drop and he turned to his test paper, he so desperately wanted Harry to go but he was battling with himself about whether or not he should follow Pansy's advice. Her sincere words rattled through his head, like an echo that felt slightly more certain everytime he chanced a side glance at Harry, who was getting out his quill and ink.

"It could be fun." Draco supplied. Harry turned back to him with hopeful eyes, his mouth loosely open. It seemed like he was searching the Draco's face, Draco wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but the glint in Potter's eyes was a catalyst for a small spark of confidence within him, "Plus, it's not as if you let yourself have _much_ fun, is it?"

Harry's lips pulled into a small smirk, "Yeah, maybe it would be." Draco noted that the raven haired boy had neglected to address his second statement but had no time to point it out as Snape turned his hourglass over, signalling the beginning of the test.

Harry let out an exaggerated sigh, rolled his neck round once and began.

It was about 40 minutes into their time when Draco finished with a smirk upturning his pink lips. He thought it easy, but one small peek at to his right told him Harry did not. In fact, Potter hadn't written much atall, the blonde stretched his arms out in front of him, strategically peering at Harry's test. He was only on question 12 and had 3 extensive writing questions left to go. Harry kept re-dipping his quill in his ink to pass the time, Draco had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he grabbed a spare piece of parchment and began scribbling an brief but ampt answer to question 12. He coughed gently, catching Harry's attention, and slid the paper into his view.

It took Harry a moment to register what the parchment was about, had he even read the question? But soon after, an unmistakable light illuminated his face as he nodded to the blonde and whispered his thanks.

Draco believed it was extremely important to find things out for yourself, as a Slytherin and avid learner he was constantly looking to challenge himself, but he couldn't seem to suppress the urge to _help_ Harry. The thought of being someone Harry looked forward to seeing in class was a pure one he cherished. Being able to take away some of the weight he constantly carried on his shoulders seemed such a reward that he would want very little in return. Maybe it was because Draco had always vied for someone who understood _him_ , someone who saw what he needed exactly when he needed it. Perhaps this was wishful thinking, but a part of him truly believed he could be that for Potter. Because he didn't see him as 'the chosen one' or 'the boy who lived', He was just _Harry._ And for Draco that was more than enough.

The last grains of sand slipped through the hourglass and the class collectively began packing away their things. They lined up to hand in the tests, each with a varying look of exhaustion. Draco passed over his paper then made his way to door, before he managed to leave the chilly classroom Harry's voice halted him. He spun around to face the shorter boy.

"Draco," Harry said once more, not worrying about the judgement of the rest of the class as they were all discussing the brutal test as they filtered out, "I'll see you at the party." He declared with an impossibly warm smile.

Draco nodded, returning the smile with one of his own, and turned around swiftly, but not before Harry caught the faint blush that was rising to the pale boy's cheeks.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thank you for reading so far. This is my first fanfic so I really appreciate any reviews. Thanks. :)**

"You look lovely, Pans." Draco said, taking in Pansy's long legs and dark tousled hair. She was wearing a deep plum coloured swing dress, it hit just above the knee and mirrored the colour of her lipstick.

"Thanks," Pansy replied, smiling at the sincerity of Draco's compliment, "as do you."

Draco had chosen to wear a slim fitting pair of black trousers, a matching blazer and a skin tight polo neck underneath. He looked clean and put together, a complete contrast to how he'd looked an hour before. He'd been frantically pacing his room muttering about having nothing suitable to wear, so he and Theo had tore through his trunk of near identical suits and settled on the one that was "Classy enough, but still flattering on the arse."

He nodded in response to Pansy's compliment, feeling extremely insecure. His pale hands were clamming up so he was constantly having to wipe them on the front of his jacket.

"Just relax, Draco," Pansy said calmly, taking his hands in her own, "this is _Potter_ we're talking about here, messy-haired, scar face Potter, who always looks as though he's crawled through a hedge. You'll be _fine._ "

Draco let out a hollow laugh and managed a small smile. She was right of course, Harry did normally look extremely dishevelled, his hair was especially unkempt, but that was part of the appeal in Draco's opinion. Harry had the ability to act and look charming just by being himself, there was no falseness masking a stone cold heart, he was just warm and kind to the bone. Draco believed himself to be quite the opposite, in order to charm others he found himself putting up a mask of niceties when it suited the situation, but beneath it he wasn't prone to extending large amounts generosity. But he must have _some_ interesting qualities, otherwise Harry wouldn't have reached out to him, right? It was maddening. If he wanted, Harry could probably say the same thing to everyone in the entire school and somehow make each individual feel special. He just had this positivity that seemed to radiate from him. This of course could work in quite the opposite way too, Draco himself had felt the salty pain that came with knowing you were one of the _only_ people Harry wouldn't make an effort with. But that had changed...or so Draco hoped.

"C'mon, let's take a look at Blaise's work, shall we?" Pansy suggested, tugging at Draco's sleeve.

The Slytherin common room was decorated from ceiling to floor in excessive amounts of violet and fuschia. Balloons hung over them, floating towards the ceiling and the dark oak tables were scattered with rose petals. Blaise was in the corner of the room fixing up a speaker when Pansy rushed over, hugging him from behind.

"It's _perfect!_ Thank you, Blaise." She said breathlessly.

Blaise smiled as he turned round to give her a proper hug, "Happy birthday." He said, and gave the top of her head a quick kiss before facing Draco and smirking, "How are you doing, loverboy?"

Draco rolled his eyes with very little passion and strode over to a nearby mirror, flattening his hair.

 _Been better,_ he thought dryly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was an hour later when groups of teens from other houses began filtering into the Slytherin common room. Since inviting Harry, Pansy had extended the invitation into an open invite- "the more the merrier, right?"- and it seemed that many sixth years were keen to let loose for a night.

At around 9:30pm the common room was brimming with people, it was probably one of the biggest displays of 'house unity' Draco had ever seen, which was rather comical now, he realised.

He'd lost Blaise, Pansy and Theo to the crowd of teens bobbing up and down in unison with the 'weird sisters'. The music was thumping round the room in time to Draco's pattering heartbeat, as he eagerly scanned the room for Harry's signature messy head of hair. He was clutching a red plastic cup filled with….actually he wasn't quite sure. Pansy had thrust it into his hands wordlessly, giving him a quick wink, then swished away to greet some new arrivals.

He felt strangely isolated in the ever-growing crowd, hips were swaying and hands were waving all around him yet he couldn't seem to find anyone to join in with. He also realised with a tinge of bitterness that Harry would most likely be bringing Granger and Weasley so probably wouldn't even want to _look_ in Draco's direction.

He began making his way up the stairs and towards the door, with the intent of lingering in the cool corridors for a while, when he heard his name called softly from behind him.

He spun on his heel and was met with the dreamy blonde Ravenclaw he knew to be Luna Lovegood.

"Er..hello." He greeted, feeling rather confused as he and Luna had never truly been on speaking terms.

"Quite a good party, wouldn't you say so?" She asked, in her soft irish accent.

"Yes. Quite."

"What's that you're drinking?" She queried with a small tilt of her head.

"Oh um.." Draco lifted the plastic cup to his lips and took a quick sip of the golden liquid. As soon as it hit his tongue and sloshed down his throat he felt an unmistakable flaming prickle, "Firewhiskey." He supplied, attempting to clear his throat of the hot tingling sensation.

Luna simply hummed in response. Draco noticed she was wearing radish earrings, a butterbeer cap necklace, and had a sprig of wheatgrass clipped into her wavy hair. He'd always figured Luna was rather eccentric but the look she'd assembled, in his opinion, was rather brave.

"Well, I won't bother you any longer as I figured you were initially on your way out. Besides, I should probably go find Neville." She said with an absent minded smile playing at her lips.

"Oh, I saw him a few minutes ago, down by the drinks station. He was talking to some Hufflepuff about Devil's Snare."

"Ah yes, that sounds like Neville. Thank you, Draco. Enjoy the rest of your evening." She gave him one last tranquil smile before turning round and dissolving into the crowd.

 _She seems nice enough_ Draco thought, remembering that Harry was quite fond of Luna. Becoming friendlier with Harry's 'crowd' was something he'd have to do if Harry were to even _consider_ a real friendship with Draco.

He walked through the doorway and was rounding the corner when he smacked into something hard.

"Merlin's bloody tits!" He spat, leaning against the cold stone and clutching his arm.

"Shit!" Harry exclaimed. Of course it was Harry. When wasn't it?

Draco steadied himself before straightening his suit, his vision was tilted slightly but he was persistently blinking his eyesight back to normal.

"Shit, I am so sorry Draco." Harry said, in that adorable flustered way of his.

Draco was silent for a moment as he took in Harry's appearance. He'd chosen a light blue t-shirt, a loose fitting flannel and some slim jeans. _Bloody prat_ thought Draco, _of course he'd smack into me and_ _ **still**_ _manage to look that handsome._

Harry ran one hand through his thick mop of hair and let out a shaky breath.

"Are you alright?"

The words were, once again, weighted with concern for Draco. It gave him a pure feeling of bliss that almost made up for the throbbing pain in his arm.

"I'm fine." He replied with a curt nod.

There was a moment of stillness where Harry simply surveyed Draco with his eyes. Those brilliantly green eyes that seemed as though they held all the answers to questions Draco didn't even know he wanted to ask. The colour was so clear and bright that it could suck the vibrancy out of a field in spring.

"You're not leaving, are you?" He asked, a line forming between his brows. Was that line concern or disappointment? Draco wished he could read it, translate it like he would a rune, and be that much closer to figuring out completely, how Harry thought and felt all the time.

"Where's Weasley and Granger?" Draco asked, ignoring Harry's question. He wanted to prepare himself for the attack of buck teeth and fiery hair as soon as possible.

"Oh, they're already inside."

Draco raised his right brow. Granger and Weasley leave Harry's side while he ventured into the Slytherin's domain? _Not bloody likely._

Harry smiled knowingly and Draco was sure he had just read his thoughts.

"They wanted to make sure this whole party thing wasn't some elaborate prank, to trap me in Slytherin territory alone and defenceless."

Draco pursed his lips and lifted his head in approval of the very cautious and strategic minds of Harry's friends.

"Well it's not, but I'm surprised we've never thought of that one."

Harry chuckled lightly and it was all bright teeth and squinty eyes and gently juddering shoulders. He looked so carefree in his baggy flannel and one strand of dark hair covering his famous scar. He looked like a teenager going to a party to have _fun._

He looked like Draco's downfall wrapped up in warm skin and a gorgeous smile.

"Well, shall we?" Harry asked, motioning towards the flashing room which now seemed particularly welcoming.

If Harry was going to cause Draco's demise then it was one hell of an appealing way to go.

"We shall."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I decided to split the party into two chapters, this is the second. I appreciate any reviews or follows and hope you're all enjoying :)**

Harsh pink and violet beams were illuminating the room in rhythmic flashes. Harry had linked his own arm with Draco's in order to keep him close as they waded through the crowd.

"Do you want to get some ice for your arm?" Harry asked, attempting to higher the volume of his voice in order to override that of the the thumping stereo.

Draco squinted as he mouthed a 'what?' and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the confused expression moulding his pointed features. Instead of answering him, Harry opted to take Draco's paler hand in his own, and lead him to a hopefully quieter corner of the room. He couldn't help but notice how welcoming the warmth of Draco's hand was, it seemed to fit with his own like a missing puzzle piece. Their palms pressed together with Draco's nimble fingers intertwined in his own created a perfect kind of balance. Like yin and yang. From their seemingly opposite personalities right down to their differing skin tones. Or maybe he was over analysing things? For Draco was by no means evil and Harry wasn't wholly angelic, but it was just the concept of two rather different things forging to create an unexpected peace that intrigued Harry. Maybe he was thinking far too deeply about something extremely ordinary. Maybe it was just the feeling of another person's heat that was making his stomach clench in giddy, childish excitement. Maybe he should avoid holding Draco's hand, in order to prevent a potentially consuming trail of thought.

They stopped next to the drinks station which was positioned much further from the speaker than where they'd initially stood. Harry regretfully returned his own hand to his side and Draco did the same, Harry noticed him retract it rather urgently and swipe it on his trouser leg.

"Do you want some ice?" Harry asked once more, gesturing to Draco's arm.

"I truly am _fine,_ Harry _."_

But Harry had a difficult time believing Draco when a very large figure smacked into him, causing him to let out a very strained groan.

Harry instinctively reached out to touch Draco's arm. "Are you ok-"

"I told you I'm _fine."_ Draco said, shaking Harry off and turning to the disoriented boy beside him. "Oi Goyle," Draco called, snapping his fingers in front of Goyle's face, "You alright?"

Goyle steadied himself and stared intensely at Draco's fingers for a few seconds, evidently regaining his focus. He looked up into Draco's face seriously before peeling his lips back to reveal an extremely intoxicated grin.

Draco rolled his eyes and went to grab Goyle's arm before Pansy slipped between then. "I'll take care of this one, don't you worry." She said, patting Draco on the shoulder before turning her attention to Harry. "Alright Potter?"

"Happy birthday." Harry said with a smile.

"Thanks," She replied, tugging Goyle by the sleeve of his checked shirt "C'mon, I haven't got all day Greg."

"What will you do with him?" Asked Draco, tilting his head to get a better look at Goyle, who appeared to be extremely fascinated by Harry's shoelaces.

"Ah, don't you worry Draco dear, I'll hand him over to Blaise and Theo, they're much better at babysitting than I am. You two have fun now." She said, flashing them both a smirk before walking off with Goyle trailing behind her.

The two boys watched her leave before turning to face one another. They stood searching each others faces for a few moments, in a contented silence that was soon broken by Harry, "Well, if you won't let me tend to your arm, at least let me distract you from the pain."

Draco scoffed, but couldn't stifle his laugh, "I think your track record in potions is enough to prove you shouldn't be tending to _anyone's_ wounds. Let alone mine."

Harry scrunched up his nose and shook his head, feeling his mop of black hair fall back into the initial scruffy shape he'd tried to alter before arriving. He felt a rush of Gryffindor spontaneity, well it was either that or the music vibrating the room, and held out his hand.

Draco raised an eyebrow inquisitively and looked as though he was about to make some snarky comment but Harry beat him to talking once again.

"May I have this dance sir?"

Draco scoffed once more and raised his left brow to meet the other, "Are you a poof?"

Harry let out a surprised laugh but refused to lower his hand, "Yes, but I'm also a caring soul who wants to take your mind off of your woefully injured arm."

Draco bit back a laugh and sighed, "Fine." He said, placing his hand in Harry's once more.

Harry couldn't help but mock himself internally for already giving in to holding Draco's hand again, although this time he decided to cast thoughts of yin and yang and destiny out of his mind. There was plenty of time to contemplate things like that, such as in history of magic when he was thoroughly not paying attention.

Once they were amongst the bouncing crowd they both took a few moments to gather their own rhythm, but after a while were happily jumping and swinging like the rest.

It was only when the song changed, rather abruptly, to a slow one that they both looked up at each other in anticipation. Harry knew he had to be the one to make the first move, as Draco had been acting rather skittish from the moment Harry had run into him at the door. He reached out and placed one hand on Draco's shoulder, almost removing it when he registered the alarm in Draco's grey eyes. But it was his persistent Gryffindor courage that made him stay positioned, placing his other hand softly on Draco's waist. Soon enough Draco's own hands were on Harry's shoulders and the two were gently swaying side to side, the other students and their partners doing the same.

Harry took the opportunity to really survey Draco's figure, subtly of course. For the first time he really took in Draco's slenderness, how long his legs looked in those black fitted trousers and the good few inches of height he had over Harry. His willowy shape created very severe features, like his pointy hip bone that Harry was able to cup perfectly. In the momentary darkness between the flashes of light Draco's sharp cheekbones were defined very handsomely, and illuminated he looked much softer, almost ethereal.

"You okay Harry?" Draco asked, gently prodding Harry's side.

"M'fine." He replied, shaking his head.

But as soon as the moment began, it was over. Ron stumbled over to Harry, cutting straight through the two, "Harry!" He yelled, a large grin taking up his freckled face.

"Sorry Harry," Called another voice from behind him, Harry turned and was met with a giggling Hermione. "He's had quite a bit to drink." She said with a hiccup and giggled once more.

"Looks like he's not the only one." Harry quipped with a quick wink.

Harry quickly turned back to Draco, hoping to rekindle the previous moment they'd shared when the song faded away gently.

"I should go," Said Draco, to Harry's dismay, "I want to get a good night's sleep, it is a Tuesday after all."

"Oh, alright then, I'll see you in potions tomorrow though, yeah?" Harry asked, sounding much more desperate than he'd intended to.

Draco laughed and shook his head before meeting Harry's eyes with his cool grey ones. "You're rather charming, Potter, when you want to be."

Harry only noticed how largely he was grinning when Draco laughed again.

"Until potions." Draco said with a curt nod, before wandering off into the crowd.

Harry stood frozen for a few minutes, his head was spinning. Had Draco just told him he was charming? Had they had a ' _moment'_?

 _It's just the alcohol_ Harry thought, before remembering he had yet to drink anything whatsoever.

"Sssorry mate," Ron slurred, leaning on Harry's shoulder, "did we interrupt ssomething?"

Harry shook his head, even he didn't truly know the answer to that himself.

"Hermione, it's a school night and you're drunk." Harry stated, the realisation of Hermione's current state finally dawning on him.

"It was R..ron's fault!" She declared before bursting into another fit of laughter.

Harry couldn't help but smile at his best friends. But he also couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they hadn't cut in.

 _What did I_ _ **want**_ _to happen?_ Thought Harry, before rubbing his eyes wearily.

He decided that he'd leave that to contemplate during history of magic too.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Please let me know if you're enjoying the story! I'll be writing a few chapters over the next couple of days so if you have any requests, (certain POVs and the like), don't hesitate to message me as I love trying out new ideas. Thanks. :)**

Harry walked into the Great hall on Tuesday morning looking considerably fresher than most of his peers. His dark tousled hair was nothing compared to the unkempt nests and beehives dotted around room. Many had left their hair in the state it had been the previous evening, some even had traces of last nights makeup ghosting their sickly pale faces.

He sat in his usual spot, opposite Hermione and Ron, shooting each a warm smile. The latter of the two was looking rather worse for wear. Ron gave him a small smile, which appeared to require great effort, then groaned and slammed his head down onto the table. Harry peered towards the teacher's table to see a very livid Professor McGonagall and quickly looked away.

"She's furious," Said Hermione, while pouring herself some more pumpkin juice, "She could tell just by the looks of everyone that there's been a party, it's just a matter of her finding out _whos_ party it was."

Harry nodded, the appearance of the sixth years and their constant groaning and moaning was surely a tell tale sign. Chancing another glance at the top table, he noticed Professor Dumbledore smiling as usual, watching the room through his half moon spectacles. Their headmaster wasn't normally bothered by parties and the usual teen lark, he tended to dedicate more time and energy into when serious matters arose. Harry had admired him for that, Dumbledore always seemed up for fun, something Harry sometimes found himself at a loss for.

"Great party, eh?" Said a thick irish accent from behind Hermione, it was Seamus. He sat himself beside Ron and Dean quickly followed behind him. "That Pansy sure is something," Seamus continued, "ended up dancing on the table chugging firewhiskey by the time you'd all left. Mad Slytherin." He finished with a laugh.

Harry noticed the bright look of admiration on Seamus' face and a sudden thought shot to the forefront of his mind.

"Seamus," Harry began, keeping his volume carefully low, "Do you _like_ her?"

The entire ensemble, including Ron who'd previously been trying to sleep, turned their gazes on Harry. Each with a variation of amusement painted on their faces. Everyone knew that Seamus was gay, everyone besides Harry it seemed. He hadn't officially come out but it was barely subtle, he'd been crushing on Dean since third year. The two boys were practically together, just lacking any official terms. But they had been known to sit on one another's laps when lounging in the common room and share a kiss after a quidditch victory, so they hardly needed announcing.

"Harry," Hermione began slowly, but she was silenced by Seamus shaking his head with a cheeky grin. Besides, it was always much more fun to see how long it took for Harry to notice things within his peer group. He was so far removed from it all, either weighted with stress or simply not bothered about keeping up with Hogwarts' social scene.

Everyone peeled their sights off of Harry and turned to their food, Ron greened at the sight of it and promptly pushed his plate away, a very rare occurrence indeed.

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"Draco, you really should eat." Said Pansy, sliding a plate of fruit in his eyeline.

Draco huffed and shoved a few grapes in his mouth, purposely chewing in an over exaggerated manner and receiving an eye roll from Pansy.

"I'm surprised you're still alive after last night." He remarked dryly before taking a gulp of pumpkin juice to soothe his dry throat.

Pansy smirked and tapped her nose twice, she'd always been able to recover from anything quickly and look like her usual immaculate self.

"You barely had anything to drink at all," she began with a knowing look, "So why are _you_ so tired?"

Draco groaned and forcefully bit into an apple, he'd been praying she wouldn't question him. Because he'd been up for most of the night replaying his evening with Harry over and over again, analysing every single detail. He'd ingrained every sentence or sound Harry had uttered, every movement he'd made, especially the two hand-holding occasions, into his mind. Draco was sure he'd never have the guts to hold Harry's hand, and was also sure that Harry would never take up his own again, so wanted to remember it as clearly as possible.

"Couldn't sleep." He supplied, attempting to seem collected.

"Up all night fantasizing were you?" Pansy asked with a quirk of her dark brow, "wanking to the thought of p-"

"Don't finish that sentence." Draco said, cutting her off with a dramatic slam of his cup on the table. This earned him several glares from fellow Slytherins who were nursing their throbbing heads. Pansy simply gestured a shooing hand at them.

"I saw you two dancing Draco, he was practically _gawking_ at you."

Pansy reached out a cupped both of Draco's hands with her own, after the sneer he'd given her following her previous statement. "Don't let your own insecurity get in the way," She continued with a pleading look "Ask him out, _talk_ to him at least."

Draco sighed and wondered if he'd ever push his fear aside to try and retrieve some genuine happiness for himself. He wondered if being a Malfoy could ever allow him to have any type of romantic relationship with Harry, if he'd ever be able to _love_ someone _unconditionally_.

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at a very confused looking Harry who was sat at the Gryffindor table. His soft dark brows were furrowed and his bright green eyes were trained on Dean and Seamus who sat opposite him. Morning sunlight was spewing out through the large windows of the hall, illuminating Harry's golden skin.

 _Ah well_ , thought Draco, _everything's worth a try._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I included a bit more of Ron and Hermione in this chapter and really enjoyed writing them, please let me know if you're enjoying the story and as always thanks for reading. :)**

Draco sighed as he crushed the Bicorn horn for he and Harry's pepper-up potion. Madam Pomfrey was extremely low on said potion due to a sudden influx of students, each demanding she cure their hangovers, migraines and the occasional cold, so they'd been instructed to brew some for her as a thank you.

The notion was far too sweet for Snape to have suggested it, thought Draco, not to mention that it deviated from their sixth year curriculum. Draco assumed it was Dumbledore's doing, the old wizard was eternally grateful for his dedicated team of staff at Hogwarts.

"You alright?" Asked Harry, his eyes glistening with concern. Draco looked away to avoid drowning in the sea of green.

He simply hummed his response but could feel Harry's eyes burning into his side, clearly dissatisfied with Draco's brief answer.

"Well you've sighed rather a lot, y'know, in the past ten minutes."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. At least seven times."

Draco smiled at the notion that Harry had been keeping count but ignored his invitation to talk all the same. It wasn't like he could talk to Harry _about_ Harry. Besides, it was just usual stuff; the urge to ask Harry out and pursue a possible avenue that would hopefully lead to eventual happiness, the fear of what his father would do to restrict his independance if he ever deviated from Malfoy tradition and the conclusion that he'd always be a coward who couldn't speak up for himself.

Draco placed the pestle onto the table and released two pinches of the finely crushed bicorn horn into the cauldron, slumping back down onto his stool and resting his head in his hand, letting the other drop loosely to his side.

It occurred to him that he'd sighed again.

He felt a warmth spread up his arm as Harry gently grasped the hand at his side. Draco took a sharp intake of breath and dared himself to look into those mossy green eyes to try and decipher what they held.

He peered up at Harry to see him smiling softly, then felt a rough thumb lightly trace over his knuckles.

"Are you okay, Draco?" Harry asked, inclining his head slightly more towards Draco.

His name sounded sweet coming from Harry's lips, the nerves churning his stomach made it feel almost as sickly as the treacle tart Harry often indulged in at meal times.

"Draco?" Harry repeated, eyes as earnest as ever, lips turned down with worry.

"Oh..uhm.." Harry's thumb had now moved to ghost circles on Draco's palm and he prayed this moment would last forever, that Harry's hand would always be moulded over his, he wanted this always. Harry's comforting warmth seemed to seep through his skin and rattle his bones. A hummingbird was beating between his ribcage but it was far from unpleasant, it was the ecstasy of knowing someone cared enough to cup your hand and make you believe that maybe everything would be okay one day. He wanted that more than anything.

He wanted _Harry._

His heart was beating erratically and the knot of nerves and joy seemed to be making its way up past his sternum, rising like a burning heat, a need and a want to express every emotion that was currently pulsing through his body.

"CometoHogsmeadewithme." Draco spluttered, far too quickly to understand. His eyes widened and he hoped that maybe Harry hadn't heard.

"What was that?" Harry asked, not letting go of Draco's pale hand, a small amount of mirth lighting his handsome features.

Draco heaved a shaky sigh and briefly shut his eyes, trying to centre himself. But it was difficult with Harry's thumb still tracing his hand, which now moved to brush his index finger, so lightly Draco wondered if he was dreaming it all.

"Come to Hogsmeade with me," Draco repeated quietly "I mean on the next Hogsmeade trip, go with me?" He furrowed his blonde brows and tried again, "No, I mean, go to Hogsmeade, on the next trip, then have a drink with me..while in Hogsmeade..with me. I-if you want."

He wanted the ground to swallow him whole and digest him until there was nothing left to be embarrassed by. He felt his neck heating up and would have gone entirely pink if it wasn't for the enormous grin gracing Harry's tan face.

"Yes." He replied, squeezing Draco's hand before releasing it back to his side.

He did feel cold at the loss of Harry's comforting touch, but he was now filled with a giddy warmth he was sure wouldn't be easy to vanquish.

 _Harry Potter wants to have drinks with me. Spend time with me. No Granger or Weasley, just_ _ **me**_ _._

Draco had always known Harry was enough for him, but had never considered that maybe _he_ was enough for Harry too.

Draco allowed himself a small victorious smile and continued with the potion, now adding in the Mandrake root.

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"You're going on a _date_ with _Draco Malfoy_?" Shrieked Hermione, sounding very shrill.

"Keep your voice down!" Said Harry, frantically waving his hand. She shot him an apologetic look and nodded gently. He took a breath and continued, "Besides, it's not a date."

"Sounds like a date." Interjected Ron.

"Yeah wel-"

"Harry, mate," He interrupted once more, "You're gay, like really gay,"

"Yeah alrig-

"And Malfoy's a bloke. So, what's the problem?" Ron asked, flicking through his Chudley Cannons magazine he'd read dozens of times.

"Well.." Harry began, his bright eyes roaming round the common room as though it held the answer he was searching for.

Ron gestured for him to continue but he was at a loss for words, he simply huffed and slumped further into the plushy armchair.

"I think," Started Hermione, "that Harry is merely expressing confusion at the idea that Draco Malfoy, his former nemesis, wants to take him out. Right?"

"He doesn't want to 'take me out'," Harry protested, physicicalysing the inverted commas on the words 'take me out', just to emphasise his point. "And that's sort of..not really it."

"What is it then?" Asked Hermione innocently.

As much as Harry loved her, he sometimes found things slightly more difficult to talk through with Hermione. She was fantastic at debating and had a brilliant mind but was less attuned to dealing with people's feelings. She wanted everything to be straight-forward and logical, but life was rarely so simple. When it comes to political opinions it's so much easier to categorise things into what you deem as right and wrong, morals can be plain and easily abided for most people. But feelings are far more complicated, there are extremes of ecstasy and rage and sorrow, but what lies between those is uncertainty and contentment and gloominess.

If Hermione had her way, emotions would all be categorised and charted accordingly, along with the significance and potential cause of each feeling. She enjoyed research and solid conclusions, Harry did truly love her for this but sometimes it made explaining how he felt seem insurmountably difficult.

"Maybe, 'Mione, we should let Harry explain what's going on first." Ron said kindly. Harry knew that whenever Ron shortened Hermione's name he was about to try and improve her people skills. At the beginning of their friendship she'd always stormed off during these moments, feeling dejected and isolated from Ron and Harry's bond. But after maturing she now seemed to appreciate those subtle hints, having accepted that Ron was simply more attuned to people's emotions.

"Ah right, okay," She nodded slowly, then smiled gently at Harry, "Okay, Harry, tell us whatever _you_ want to."

Ron put down his magazine and placed it on the table in front of where he and Hermione sat. He nodded at Harry encouragingly, and Harry was reminded of how much he appreciated his two best friends. They constantly wanted to make things right for him, something he'd never experienced when living with the Dursleys.

"Well..basically..so t-the thing is.." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily.

Hermione instantly looked to Ron, her brown eyes wide with worry. Ron smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. Harry pretended not to notice how she leaned into the touch of his freckly hand.

"Okay," Harry tried again, "So you know how Draco and I were paired for potions?"

The pair nodded simultaneously, Hermione with a particular look of urgency.

"Well we agreed to get along, because it just made sense. But then he started making me laugh, that day I'd woken up late from nightmares," He suppressed a shudder as the images resurfaced in his mind. "Then we had detention and he was upset so I comforted him,"

"Comforted him? In what way?" Hermione asked, details were another thing she was rather hung up on.

Harry noticed that Ron's arm had reached past over the back of the couch to wrap around Hermione, her wild bush of dark curls coming to rest on Ron's left shoulder.

"Well I put my hand on his shoulder and he.." Harry hesitated, the fact that Draco had cried that day in the potions store room felt incredibly personal, Harry wasn't even sure he was supposed to have seen it. Plus, Draco had neglected to bring up the incident again so he'd probably rather it stay buried. "Anyway," Harry continued, waving his hand as though he was brushing the matter away, like a cloud of smoke. "Then he convinced me to go to Pansy's party and we danced together which was..y'know..good. And now..well..this."

Harry's cheeks began to redden at his friends' silence. Now that he said it all out loud it sounded like nothing, but it couldn't be, could it? Not when it made him feel so _much._ The way he'd accepted Draco's offer, so quickly it looked as though he'd been waiting for it, made him think that maybe he _had_ been waiting for it. Maybe he wanted all those little instances to escalate into something real. Sure it was an intimidating thought, but it was also one that brought him an unexplainable sense of comfort. Like how you feel when it's snowing but you're inside, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket watching the snowflakes fall.

 _Something real_ he thought, smiling inwardly, _Something real with Draco._

Ron gave an incredulous snort and Harry was snapped out of his reverie. Going by the questioning looks on both Ron and Hermione's faces, he hadn't been smiling as privately as he'd thought.

"Mate," Ron said, with a shake of his head, "You've got it _bad."_

 _Have I?_ He thought, remembering the times he'd caught Draco blushing, the pink tinge staining his pointy face. He'd thought it adorable, and had watched Draco's long legs as he'd swept out of the classroom, ineffective at hiding his nervousness.

"You're right." Harry said, this time aloud.

 _Shit._


	14. Chapter 14

The trip to Hogsmeade was set for Saturday and the final two days of the week had dragged by slowly, Draco has been an incompetent ball of nerves. Blaise had informed him he'd zoned out completely at least three times during dinner on Thursday alone, he hadn't realised he was mentally isolating himself at the time but looking back he could recall what had sent him into a spiral of endless thought.

It had been _Potter_ , of course.

Even though Draco called him Harry these days, he thought of him as 'Potter' whenever he was particularly frustrated. The nerves were grating on him like teeth mashing and grinding together, and thinking about what on Earth he was going to say to Potter during the trip was surely causing his bottom jaw to clamp into the top.

He woke up feeling severely unrested as he'd spent half the night thinking about what ensemble he could possibly wear to Hogsmeade. It had to be smart and frame his body well, yet couldn't be anything too fancy as he didn't want Harry to see him as an arrogant pure-blooded ponce. That in turn had acted as a catalyst, starting up the long winded process of self-deprecation that always seemed to echo in his father's voice; "You're a shame to the Malfoy name, if you date and marry a man, how will you provide a legitimate heir?" The thoughts bounced around his aching skull until he had to remind himself that his father knew nothing of his sexuality and wouldn't until Draco saw fit to tell him. Which he hoped he could put off for at least an eternity.

"You ready for your date today, loverboy?" Said a deep voice he instantly recognised as Blaise's.

"Piss off." He replied, promptly throwing his best goosefeather pillow to hit Blaise right in the face.

Blaise gave a low chuckle and smirked, "Come down when you're dressed, Pansy wants to critique your outfit." He sent Draco a devious wink then turned on a heel and disappeared down the steps to the common room.

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"You look gorgeous!" Pansy squealed, pulling Draco into a tight hug.

" _Gorgeous."_ Blaise repeated teasingly. Draco wished he'd brought his pillow with him.

He'd chosen a thick navy jumper and fitted black trousers, the trousers said 'classy' but the jumper said 'cosy' so hopefully it would create the desired effect; he wanted to appear sophisticated yet kind and obtainable. He also just wanted to bag Harry so he could stop thinking like a lovesick twat all the time.

Pansy released him but held his shoulders at arms length, surveying him fondly. "You look such a little prince in that cable knit jumper." She said, smiling so broadly he was worried she was going to pinch his cheeks.

"Such a little prince." Blaise mimicked once more, this time it was Pansy who hit him, with a pillow she'd snagged from the couch nearby.

"At least he's actually _got_ someone to go on a date with, unlike yourself." Pansy said, a smirk upturning her full lips.

"Trust me," Blaise began, leaning to whisper in Pansy's ear, "I'm working on it."

He winked for the second time that morning and swiftly made his way up the stone steps, exiting without another word.

Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at Pansy which she quickly dismissed with a roll of her eyes. She grabbed her black leather satchel and began climbing the steps as Blaise had done. Draco quickly followed suit and caught up with her to walk side by side.

"So," He began, feigning innocent curiosity, "What was all that about?"

Pansy shook her head, her crop of shiny hair swaying side to side, "Oh nothing, I'm just his next potential conquest is all."

Draco raised his brows, recalling the conversation he'd had with Blaise in fourth year. Blaise wanted to shag the entire student body it seemed. Well, only those who were of age and willing to participate. He'd already made his way through most of Slytherin, having finally had sex with Theo after Pansy's party. It wasn't that Blaise was heartless or non-committal, he just wanted to have as much fun as possible while he was still young, and not so tied down by arranged marriage and other pureblood lark. In fact, Blaise had the utmost respect for people's bodies and choices. He was a keen feminist, often joining in with Pansy's rants about the role of women in pureblood families, and how upholding certain traditions was restricting the progression of modern feminism. He was also very concerned with the issue of consent, having once beaten up a seventh year who'd groped a girl in the corridors. Anyone who Blaise set his sights on was someone with a personality he could click with and usually a secret lust harboured for him. He was one of the most sought out boys in the entire school, almost giving the great Harry Potter a run for his money.

But for some reason this felt very different. Blaise had always cared for Pansy as a friend and Draco highly doubted he would even think of exchanging that for a solely sexual relationship. He'd seen the way Blaise had looked at Pansy on her birthday, wide-eyed and open-mouthed like a puppy in awe. It was the way Draco imagined himself looking at Harry when no one was watching.

It was _love_ or admiration at least.

"Well," Draco said, draping his thin arm over Pansy's shoulders, "a wise woman once said to me that I should be myself and not let my insecurities get in the way. So maybe you should consider that you are _much_ more than that."

"Well whoever gave you that advice _does_ sound rather brilliant." Pansy said, smiling warmly.

"Oh yes," Draco responded, giving her shoulder a squeeze "brilliant but _extremely_ annoying."

Pansy promptly thwacked him with the back of her hand and took off ahead of him. But not before he could see her amused grin.

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As the sixth years were heading down to Hogsmeade Draco realised he hadn't seen Harry all morning. He was sure Harry had missed breakfast, although not entirely convinced as he'd been far too nervous to look in that direction.

 _What if he doesn't turn up? He has to, right? Ditching me wouldn't be very Gryffindor-y of him._

Pansy gave Draco a gentle nudge, "Remember what we talked about?" She asked softly.

Draco nodded solemnly and bit his lip, "Stay calm and be myself."

"Exactly." She said with an encouraging smile, and proceeded to lock their arms together. Pansy was very used to dealing with Draco's bouts of anxiety, they usually emerged when he was feeling particularly vulnerable. He'd eavesdropped her having a conversation with Blaise about him once - "It's the pressure from his father Blaise, it's always affected him badly" - and Draco couldn't help but agree. His father was a constant looming presence that made him feel as though the walls were closing in and squeezing his ribs together, trying to pop his head off like one would a cap off a bottle of butterbeer.

There was a chill to the air that seemed to seep through Draco's skin and pinch his nerve endings. He was glad he'd donned his thick Slytherin scarf.

When they arrived outside of the 'Three broomsticks' Pansy unhooked her arm from Draco's but clasped their hands together, "Blaise and I will be on the opposite side of the room, if anything goes wrong we'll _be there,_ okay?"

Draco nodded once more and Pansy planted a quick kiss on his cheek before entering the cosy looking pub.

Draco waited outside for another five minutes before Harry showed, Granger and Weasley either side of him. He almost groaned aloud, worried that Potter had completely misunderstood his insinuation that he wanted it to be he and Harry _alone._ But Weasley patted him on the back and moved to hold Granger's hand, then the two took off into the rest of the village.

Harry smiled so brightly that Draco could almost feel his legs giving way beneath him.

Clearly noticing Draco's blotchy pink face, Harry frowned worriedly, "You haven't been waiting out here long, have you?"

"Well you're not exactly _punctual_ Harry, but no I've not been waiting too long."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief then without warning, grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him into the warmth of the indoors. They sat in the corner near the door, a neat little alcove with a backed bench.

"Butterbeer?" Harry asked, and following Draco's nod, weaved his way around the other seats in the room and towards the bar.

In his quick moment of solitude Draco allowed himself three calming breaths before Harry promptly returned, two pints of butterbeer in hand.

"Thanks." Said Draco, extending his hand to Harry with the money to pay for his drink. Harry shook his head, taking a large gulp from his glass and exhaling in pleasure. Draco groaned, "Let me pay for my drink, I'm not a peasant."

Harry barked out a laugh and took another sip of his drink, "You can pay next time, 'kay?"

Draco's stomach instantly lurched at the thought that there would even _be_ a next time.

"Deal." He made to take a sip of his drink but upon smelling it felt instantly sick. The sweetness of the liquid and the thick cream would surely do nothing to aid his churning stomach.

"So," Began Harry, "do you think Snape had a secret tactic in pairing everyone up in potions?"

Draco raised one blonde brow in question.

"Well," Harry continued, "Blaise with Neville, Hermione with Pansy, you with me. Sounds like he's trying to implement some serious house unity." He finished with a wink.

Draco hummed in thought and tried not to melt under Harry's intense gaze. "I think Snape may have chosen the pairs with practicality in mind. For instance; Blaise potentially stopping Longbottom from destroying _another_ cauldron, Pansy being able to keep up with Granger's intellect and.." He trailed off into silence. Draco really wasn't sure why Snape had paired he and Harry together, he was glad about it now but had been thoroughly pissed off at the time.

"And us?"

 _Us._ Draco liked the sound of that very much.

"Perhaps he thought I could help tame your Gryffindor recklessness."

Harry laughed once more and took another sip of his drink, he was gulping it down like nobody's business, clearly enjoying the warming sensation.

Draco decided he should probably attempt to drink his, it would be rather bad manners not to as Harry had bought it for him. He lifted the heavy glass to his lips and braced himself for the sickly taste, that would no doubt curdle in his uneasy stomach. He took three sips then lowered the glass back onto the oak table, not wanting to drop it with his clammy hands.

Harry chuckled and Draco felt instantly paranoid.

"C'mere, you've got-" Harry reached out his hand and swiped at Draco's top lip with his thumb, that roughly padded thumb that Draco had dreamt about. He had to suppress the urge not to lick it, thinking that it may possibly catch Harry off guard, not to mention look very unsophisticated. Though by the way Harry had been chugging down his drink, Draco heavily doubted he cared much for sophistication.

Harry pulled back his hand and Draco would have felt embarrassed but _oh Merlin,_ Harry put his thumb to his own mouth and _sucked_ the cream off.

Draco took in a sharp breath and thanked the Gods up above -any Gods, he really wasn't fussy in that moment- that he didn't have an erection. Harry probably wasn't _trying_ to be suggestive but the simple action still sent shivers up Draco's spine all the same.

Although he could feel his neck heating up he just had to remind himself not to, under any circumstances, think about Potter's tongue.

Luckily the door swung open -providing a good distraction- and a giggling Hermione Granger entered, arm hooked with Weasley.

"Oh," Harry gasped and quickly scooted round to sit next to Draco, they're hips brushing lightly. "Okay so, I think there's something going on between Ron and Hermione because..well..just watch." Harry said, gesturing to the pair who'd gone straight to the bar.

It was difficult to focus on the pair of Gryffindors when Harry was sitting so close, his heat merging with Draco's. Harry's hair looked even wilder than usual, thick black strands covering his famous scar. Draco wanted to reach out and run his hand through the thick mass, to shove his nose into it and inhale deeply, but instead remained seated and trained his eyes on Granger and Weasley.

Weasley reached round and placed his hand on the small of Granger's back, and Harry gave Draco a nudge as if it wasn't easily noticeable. Then Weasley leant down to whisper something into Granger's ear, his face pressing into her bush of curls. She burst into another fit of giggles and muffled her laughter with her gloved hand. Weasley then proceeded to hand her a pint and wrap his arm around her middle, leading them to a table nearby.

Draco turned back to Harry and raised his eyebrows at Harry's awed expression.

"So," Harry began, attempting to keep his voice low, "Whad'ya think?"

Draco's lips pressed together as he attempted to conceal his smile, but soon enough he was chuckling wildly as Harry continued to search his face.

"What?" Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He truly looked like a lost kitten.

"Harry, _everyone_ knows about Granger and Weasley. Those two have had a 'thing' since third year."

Harry looked truly dumbfounded and almost slightly disappointed, as though his great observation was now tarnished.

"Oh don't look so upset, I'll buy you another drink?" Draco offered, half-jokingly, half desperate to have not burst Harry's bubble.

"Nah, let's just sit for a while." Harry said, his smile returning.

It once again occured to Draco that maybe he didn't need to entice Harry with test answers and drinks, maybe _he_ was enough for Harry. His company, his conversation, his opinions.

The thought brought a warmth to Draco that a sip of butterbeer never could.

Harry cupped Draco's right hand in his strong hold for the third time that week and Draco wondered if this was becoming their 'thing'. He hoped so.

Harry's thumb began to trace those heavenly patterns over Draco's knuckles and it wouldn't have surprised him if his pale hand was covered in magical sparks following Harry's touch.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

Draco furrowed his brow, "Why do you always ask me that? Do I not look okay?" He asked, sounding far more defensive than he'd meant to.

"No, no, you look.. you're fine. You look good." Harry said, slightly flustered. Draco heaved a sigh of relief. "It's just.."

Draco moved his hand to cover Harry's, hoping it would have the same encouraging effects as it did when Harry held Draco's. Harry smiled, clearly appreciating the gesture and Draco's insides bubbled with pride at actually having done something right for once. He attempted to trace Harry's knuckles but it felt incredibly awkward with his nimble fingers. Instead Harry moved Draco's hand to his lap, bringing up his other tanned hand to play with Draco's long fingers. It seemed to work some and Draco was more than happy to have Harry touch him in any way at all.

"I just worry about you sometimes." Said Harry, eyes stuck to the table, looking as though he'd confessed to something wrong.

"You worry about _me?_ " Draco asked, wondering why on Earth someone like Harry would be spending anytime thinking - let alone worrying - about Someone like Draco.

Harry murmured inaudibly then took a breath, his shoulders squared determinedly. Draco recognised this as a surge of Gryffindor courage, imploring Harry to say exactly what he felt.

"Ever since that day in detention...when you were y'know..I've just been wanting to make sure you're okay."

Draco felt his face light up and give Harry a rare toothy smile, as though he wasn't controlling his own body and his natural instinct was to give Harry every little piece of himself he could share. Everything he neglected to show everyone else was burning up to latch onto Harry so he could bare his very soul to him.

"I'm okay." Draco said, with not as much conviction as he would have liked, causing Harry to incline his head further towards him. "Sometimes I just feel…..anxious. That's all. And my father's never really lent much to helping that, he cut off my correspondence with my mother."

"He what?" Harry's ever earnest eyes widened, "He doesn't want his own _wife_ writing to his _son?"_

Draco shook his head slowly, "Sometimes when people feel inadequate they try to salvage any sense of control they can. My father's, I'm afraid, just happens to extend to me."

Harry clutched on to Draco's hand a little tighter, as though such a simple act could shield him from all the bad in the world.

"I'm sorry, Draco, that's horrible." Harry said, the words and Harry's eyes weighted with the utmost sincerity.

"It's okay." Draco smiled, hoping to convince Harry that he was fine, the thought of troubling Harry with his own woes felt rather awful. Draco also wanted to ask about Harry's homelife but thought better of it, as far as he knew Harry had been raised by muggles but would be staying with the Weasley's at christmas.

It was almost like Draco's unasked questions hung in the air, creating an almost tangible feeling of tension. Harry dissolved it by squeezing his hand and leaning in even closer, "I'll tell you about my shitty..uhm.. _guardians_? Someday, if you want."

"Yes, I'd like that." Draco replied with a smile, "Well not _like_ because obviously that's not _good_ but I-well..you know what I mean."

Harry nodded with a grin, still threading Draco's fingers between his stronger hands.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

Harry eyes were fixated on Draco's hand, he was smoothing his index finger along the bone of Draco's pinky, turning Draco's hand over ever so slightly to feel every ridge.

"Is this a _date_?" He asked it so quietly it almost went unheard in the rowdy pub. Draco felt his stomach instantly clench and his muscles tighten, as though he was frozen in fear, expecting something deadly to fall from the sky and crush him into the ground. His pulse rung in his ears so he could hear the beat of the blood being pumped by his heart. He had to make a decision; fight or flight.

He almost always chose flight, fleeing any scene before it could pull him under the rough waves of humiliation. He couldn't stand to drown in his own mistakes so fleeing to the safety of a locked room or a cushy bed was always more compelling. But with Harry sitting across from him, holding his hand so surely, he felt safe. The intimacy of their little alcove where the cold from the constantly opening door couldn't penetrate the heat they shared. And Harry's eyes had now looked into his own to blaze through him and caress any fear, any doubt. He was lost in a new ocean now; Harry's all encompassing comfort and kindness that made him want to run for the hills from nerves, but also wrap himself in a blanket of all Harry's words and laughter and thoughts.

He was utterly vulnerable. But for the first time in his life he wasn't going to ruin himself, he would not be the cause of his own destruction. Oh no, that would ultimately be his affection for Harry, however he was more than happy to sit back and let that surpass any logic he once believed he harboured.

"I wanted it to be." He said, and despite the sense of courage he tried to muster, his voice still sounded helplessly croaky.

"Good," Said Harry, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, "So did I."

And that was when Draco realised that he wasn't drowning, but floating serenely on the surface of cool, peaceful water.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hi everyone, I'm not entirely sure how trigger warnings work but I definitely thought it worth mentioning that physical and mental abuse is inferred towards the end of this chapter. It's not explicitly labelled nor described, but if it is at any point in this story I will put a warning at the beginning. As always please enjoy, and thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. :)**

Harry sauntered into the Great hall on Monday morning, his handsome features lit up by an unwavering goofy smile.

He'd slept, unhindered and peaceful, for a full 9 hours. It was the longest and most satisfying sleep he'd had in a long time. No gruelling nightmares of high pitched shrieks, final words and bones aching from hours of relentless chores had dared to enter his slumber. But that's not to say he didn't dream, he dreamt deeply for hours on end, the images so familiar yet so fleeting.

Sweet flashes of white toothy smiles, sickly butterbeer and fumbling hands. Soft whispers and sweaty palms, wracked with unasked questions and unspoken truths. The chattering of the outside world muted by the sheer appreciation and coveting for the unending present. It all passed through his mind in a dazed fog, as though he couldn't quite reach it, couldn't quite believe it.

But he _could_ reach it, although he still couldn't quite _believe_ it.

You tend to notice things more when you're awake, Harry realised. Not just awake, properly awake. Expecting and welcoming of the day ahead. He discerned that, as of late, he'd been sleepwalking through his days; never fully perceiving what was happening, but rather viewing it as an unaffected bystander.

You see things as they are, and only as they are, when you're awake. Everything seems brighter and quicker and louder. Rather than the sluggish drag of time through unrested eyes. Rather than muted surroundings viewed by someone who's forgotten what sleep feels like, how to do it.

Harry realised all of this, rather quickly, so fast that it was almost overwhelming, yet he couldn't help but drink in everything he was seeing and hearing and smelling.

Because he'd slept. For the first time in months, he'd been able to shut his eyes without seeing Voldemort's skull-like face on the inside of his lids.

He'd tried numerous times in the past to count sheep, or to learn a lullaby. But counting sheep only works if you can shut your mind off to everything that's happening around you, and fear of causing the demise of everyone you hold dear is a rather endless tune. And as for lullabies; they only work if you're truly comforted by the voice of someone who used to sing them to you, and no one had ever sung Harry a lullaby.

But he had one _now_. A pleasant face to imagine, a focal point, a _lullaby._ Draco Malfoy had become these things. Draco Malfoy was his lullaby.

"You look cheerful." Said Hermione as he sat down opposite her.

"Yeah, really good mate." Agreed Ron. Harry swallowed down the urge to ask if he usually looked bad, because he knew what Ron meant. He felt like he was radiating positivity.

He hadn't seen Ron or Hermione much since Saturday. Harry had been feeling particularly elated on Sunday so had decided to go for a fly which then turned into an impromtu quidditch match with Dean, Seamus and a few Hufflepuff fifth years. Hermione had dragged Ron to the library, kicking and screaming, though Harry suspected they were both looking for an excuse to spend more time alone. Of course he'd seen them at breakfast and dinner over the weekend, but he assumed they'd been reluctant to ask questions about his date with Draco due to the presence of eavesdropping Gryffindors.

But Dean and Seamus were on the other side of the hall, talking animatedly to Neville and Luna, who had elected to sit at the Ravenclaw table together, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were sat far away enough from any other students to avoid being overheard.

It was just a question of who was going to burst with the need to interrogate him first.

"So Harry," Began Hermione, unsurprisingly, "how did everything on Saturday go?"

Harry smirked as Ron slowly lowered his magazine, clearly far more interested in Harry's response.

"Ah well, y'know." Harry teased, being purposely vague.

"C'mon mate, Hermione'll explode if you don't tell 'er."

Hermione nodded rather urgently just to punctuate Ron's sentiment.

Harry, having been thinking about the whole thing nonstop, instantly caved into sharing their enthusiasm, although more subtly, he hoped.

"It went well. Really well, in fact.. _better_."

" _Better_ that well? _Merlin's beard_ Harry." Ron said teasingly. Hermione promptly jabbed him in the side and ushered for Harry to continue.

"We had drinks and talked I guess. But it was just..really good. Then at the end of it all I asked whether it really _had_ been date and he said yes. Or- no. He said he wanted it to be..which of course was fine with me because I realised er- afterwards that.. I wanted it to be one too."

"You really have got it bad." Said Ron, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless.

Although Harry felt as though he was sitting in a bubble of impenetrable happiness, there was something prickling at his side, like a growing itch, that was bothering him. As he looked at Hermione's contemplative expression it came to him, the thing he'd been dreading but unable to identify.

"So..you don't..you don't mind, then?" He asked, still slightly unsure of _what_ he was actually asking.

"Hm?" Hermione cocked her head to one side, while Ron brought his hand up to his chin and leant on the table.

"Well..I know that Draco hasn't exactly been an angel in the past."

Ron snorted, "Well obviously, but what d'ya mean?"

Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice to quell his suddenly rising nerves and continued, "Well is it _okay_ with you guys that I'm..y'know..like this..with him?" He asked, still pondering on _what_ he and Draco actually were.

Hermione sighed, "You deserve to be happy Harry, and I'll admit that Malfoy would never have been my first choice but...I suppose if he's _yours.._ " She shrugged.

"Yeah, same here mate, plus he sounds like he's turned a bit of a corner." Added Ron.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and noticed Dean and Seamus walking towards the table.

"Although Harry," Hermione said urgently, noticing the approaching boys too, "I would make sure he has changed as much as you think, if I were you." She gave him a pointed look but still managed a small smile.

Harry knew what that implied, and couldn't help but agree. Hermione was suggesting that just because Draco had shown a liking to Harry, that it was still highly possible and very probable, that he still had very discriminatory views towards muggleborns, half-bloods, squibs and whoever he was taught to hate.

He made a mental note to talk to Draco about that. Though he had no idea how to broach the subject.

 _Ah well,_ He thought, _at least that's something to keep me occupied during history of magic._

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A sharp tap on Draco's window startled him, he'd come to associate the noise with owls delivering angry letters from his father. He'd received one only yesterday, detailing his father's disappointment that his marks were only the second highest in the entire year. He wrote back apologising for his abject tardiness, leaving out the fact that he was actually _ahead_ of Granger in potions.

He dragged himself over to the window, already feeling deflated, and was surprised when the owl wasn't Nuntius, but a great snowy owl, flapping its wings elegantly. He opened the window and let the owl, who after a moment he recognised as Harry's, swoop into the dormitory and land on his bedpost.

He plucked the folded scrap of paper from the clutch of her talon and opened it to read:

 _Hey, meet me in the library at 7:00? I have an essay to finish but I want to see you. Send your response back with Hedwig, H._

Draco's body filled with a warmth that reached his fingertips. He re-read the note several times, taking in every line of Harry's scribble. Hedwig ruffled her feathers impatiently and he realised he'd been standing there smiling like an idiot.

"Hedwig, is it?"

She gave another light ruffle in response.

"You're rather pretty, Hedwig."

Hedwig jumped from that banister and glided over to land on Draco's shoulder, giving his ear an appreciative nip. Draco quickly grabbed a spare bit of parchment and wrote:

 _Hey, I'd love that. I'll help with your essay, D._

 _P.s I think Hedwig likes me._

He passed the note over and pet Hedwig gently, "I promise I'll have food for you next time."

Hedwig gave a fond hoot then flew out of the room. Draco stood by his window for a moment, watching the owl glide regally, doing a lap round the castle before turning a corner soaring out of sight.

She really was quite beautiful.

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Draco arrived at the library to see Harry already set up in the corner, his books laid out in front of him in a heap of chaos. Spare pieces of parchment and unreadable notes littered the table, Harry was searching through them fixedly.

He approached the table slowly, and cleared his throat to announce his presence, not wanting to startle Harry.

Harry looked up frantically, his hair wild and eyes earnest, before a big smile lit up his tan face.

"Hey, sorry, I'll clear some space for you."

Harry pushed a pile of notes and sloppy diagrams aside and Draco placed his brown satchel down onto the small oak table.

"I think you're right about Hedwig," He said as Draco began unpacking his things.

"Hm?"

"She likes you." He said with a smile so handsome Draco could have melted right there and then.

Draco wondered if _he_ ever looked that good when he smiled. Like the sun had been woven into his skin and the stars sprinkled into his eyes.

"What's your essay on?"

Harry heaved a large sigh and rolled his eyes, he cleared his throat purposefully and read, in the haughtiest tone he could possibly summon; "To what extent were the Giant wars the most significant event of the nineteenth century?"

Draco gave a low whistle "Oof, that one's rough. Finished it last week."

"Of course you did. Because you're not a unorganised prat who leaves things to the last minute," Draco hummed and turned to the transfiguration notes he was meant to be completing and Harry scoffed in mock indignation, "You're supposed to _disagree_ with me."

Draco chuckled, "Can't fight the truth." He said, receiving a jab in his side from Harry. "Anyway, you're just using me as a distraction, you're supposed to be finishing your essay."

"Yeah but this is more fun," He said with a cheeky grin "oh I think Ron and Hermione are finally getting their act together."

"Essay, Potter."

"Oh come on!" Whined Harry, "You're a Slytherin, you _love_ gossip."

Draco couldn't help the smile that threatened to curl up his lips. He truly did love gossip. Not in a malicious sense, he'd never use information against people, especially when it had been confided to him in confidence. It was more the thought of people trusting him, opening themselves up and allowing him to pluck a little piece of them out. And if Harry wanted to contemplate information about his two best friends with Draco, then what hurt could that do?

"Alright, alright. Write another sentence then you can tell me."

Harry eagerly obliged, scribbling something down so fast Draco was sure it made no sense. He then sat up and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Okay, so, they were together all weekend, I didn't hear a peep out of either of them. And they've got this weird thing going on..like..it's weird ..it's like.."

"Like they're able to communicate without anything actually transpiring aloud?"

"Exactly!" Said Harry, pointing a finger to Draco's chest which he quickly retracted, almost as though he was unsure of what he was _allowed_ to do.

Draco smiled and gestured at Harry's essay which as still lying there, uncompleted. Harry groaned but picked up his quill all the same. He scratched down a few things then sat there for a moment, quill poised, face vacant. Draco watched him through his peripheral vision and noticed his nostrils flaring from deep inhalation.

"You okay?" Draco asked gently, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

"What do you think of that?" He asked, voice quivering slightly. Draco raised a brow in question, trying to keep his face as soft and open as possible, like he'd seen Pansy do to him. Harry scratched his neck in a very overwrought manner and settled his hand in the crook above his shoulder. He was gnawing on his lower lip and his eyes were darting around the room, resting on anything but Draco. "Of Ron and Hermione," Harry explained, "them being..y'know..together."

Draco furrowed his brows and turned up his lips, why was Potter asking him if he liked the idea of Granger and Weasley in a relationship? What did it matter to him?

Draco felt his hand go numb and it dawned on him, what Harry was _really_ asking. He swallowed down a lump that was rising up his throat and felt the writhing pit of nerves that sat just below his ribs. They were doing this. They were going to talk about this now.

"You mean her." He choked out helplessly. "You mean what do I think of _her._ "

Harry's teeth stayed pressing down on his lower lip, the pressure causing his surrounding skin to lose considerable colour. He nodded slowly, dreadfully. Draco felt a cold sweat drip from the nape of his neck and down his back to soak into his crisp shirt. He'd been waiting for Harry to ask this, wondering why he hadn't sooner. Draco had to be careful, he was breathing rapidly with the knowledge that one slip of his tongue would result in Harry running, and never returning.

He drew in a rattling breath and steadied himself, his head was spinning, the room suddenly seemed far too hot, as though the air was thick and difficult to inhale through his collapsing lungs.

"I used to care a lot about blood," Draco began, his voice quivering and mercilessly betraying the look of indifference he was attempting to feign. "I was taught to. From day one. It was father, mostly. He'd bang on about muggle blood mixing with wizard, saying it was unnatural, a stain on the sheet of purity the original pureblood wizarding families had worked so hard to weave. And of course I believed him, I admired him when I was young, wanted to be just like him."

Harry was chewing his already well-bitten fingernails and listening with rapt attention. He nodded for Draco to continue.

"But then, as the years went on, I admired him less. He was cruel.. he used to-" Draco looked away, any colour caused by the heat of the room had now drained from his face. His skin was as clear as porcelain. His throat made a strangled gargle as he tried to continue.

Harry reached out to touch his hand, "We don't have to talk about _that_ now."

Draco bit his lip and nodded solemnly, avoiding Harry's eye, too afraid that if Harry could see him properly, he'd translate Draco's face into what he was thinking.

"He became cruel. That was the main thing. I was about 12 years old-"

Harry drew in a sharp breath, clearly able to guess what Lucius Malfoy was like, and shocked at how very young Draco had been.

"So I spent more time with mother. She used to be prejudiced in her youth, but it seemed to fade along with her love for my father. She's unhappy there. With him.

"I haven't thought about it for a while," He continued "not that that makes a difference." He swallowed with difficulty and realised he'd have to be completely honest with Harry, Harry who was so kind, so good. "I suppose that if..I were to argue with someone or get particularly angry I could -would use it as a derogatory insult against them."

He suddenly felt very hollow, the worms infesting his stomach had now chewed his insides down to an empty cavity. He'd ruined it. He'd ruined it before it had even began just by being himself.

"Draco," Harry began, clasping his fingers around Draco's bony wrist.

"-But that can change, right?" Draco interrupted, it came out as urgently as he felt. His grey eyes dared to pierce into Harry own spectacular ones, as though Draco was pleading with him. In a way Draco thought he was, begging Harry to stay. To give him a chance and neglect however Draco came across. To not judge him based on his past, one he occasionally regretted as it had left him lost and alone. He was imploring Harry to do something he'd always resented him for; to be the savior.

 _Don't give up on me now Harry, please. Do what you do best, fix me._

"You're not your father." Said Harry, with such fierce and unwavering conviction. He moved his finger to rest over Draco's pulse and leaned forward earnestly. "You've done some shitty things Draco, but I'm starting to think that maybe you weren't all there."

Draco huffed in relief and felt hot tears prickle behind his eyes, all Harry had to do was move his finger to trace Draco's veins, and they spilled over with a humiliating sob. Draco leaned his head on Harry's hand, grateful for the fact that the library was empty, aside from Madam pince who was stacking the bookcases in the back of the room. He felt Harry's fingers card through his hair soothingly while he cried all over his hand. Cried like only Pansy and his mother had seen him do. He realised begrudgingly that his body was still intent on exposing his entire soul for Harry to dip into freely. It was embarrassing and awful and comforting all at once.

He finally lifted his head, eyes puffy and lips swollen. Harry pulled down his jumper sleeve to cover his hand and gently swiped at the leftover tears, trickling down Draco's now slightly reddened cheeks.

"Thanks." Draco whispered, still trying to steady his voice.

"I'm sorry I put you through that, Draco." Said Harry, his neck heating up in shame.

"Don't be. I needed it." He said sternly, and began packing up his satchel. Harry followed suit, the only sound that could be heard was the rustling of parchment that should have been covered in facts about the giant wars.

" _I deserved it_." Draco added, so quietly it was barely a whisper. So quietly he wasn't entirely convinced he'd actually said it.

So quietly Harry didn't hear it.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Here's another trigger warning for this chapter, mental and physical abuse is inferred once again. As I previously said, I will provide a clear warning if there is more detail regarding sensitive topics. Please let me know how you're enjoying the story and thank you for reading this far. :)**

"I'm simply saying that I think you need to understand the serious importance of the subjects we're learning here, Harry."

It was a Thursday evening and Harry, Hermione and Ron had been revising in the Gryffindor common room for two hours. After dinner Hermione had dragged them both straight there with an air of unauthorised authority, they'd pored over piles of parchment and books detailing all possible subjects from the reversal of accidental transfiguration, to the effects of the 18th century goblin riots, (this they had covered in previous years but Harry had promptly disregarded it). Harry had bored of the arduous study half an hour ago and had decided to take a well deserved break. He was draped across the plushy red couch, his thick mop of hair strewn across a golden pillow. Hermione had thought this a personal insult and had undertaken lecturing Harry on his relaxed attitude towards school.

"I know 'Mione but I highly doubt knowing the effects of the position of Saturn in accordance with some bloody Mercury retro -gate- or whatever- will help me become an _auror._ "

"I'm not talking about _divination_ -"

"Exactly!" Harry said, shooting up from his reclined position with vigour, "You can't pick and choose what's important if I'm not allowed to."

Hermione ran a quivering hand through her hair, and tucked a dark curl behind her ear. The roaring fire was lighting up her deep skin and chocolate eyes, and making her exasperated expression much more apparent. She exhaled through her nose and pinned Harry with a very determined expression.

"Harry, you may change your career decision last minute, or even tomorrow perhaps. So as your friend, I'm telling you that it would be in your best interest to dedicate yourself to your education more."

Harry stood up abruptly, Hermione following his movements with weary eyes.

"I need some air."

Ron nodded understandingly and placed a hand on Hermione's thigh, restraining her from going after him. He quickly sped out of the common room, his legs stiff after sitting for so long.

Initially he began walking aimlessly, the chill of the stone corridors soothing after being in the stuffy common room.

Harry was breathing rapidly and mumbling to himself in a clipped and aggressive tone.

 _I just need someone who understands._

He stopped suddenly, his legs acting before he could think, and set a course for the dungeons.

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Harry and Draco walked through and out of the castle in companionable silence. Draco hadn't even questioned why Harry turned up to Slytherin common room so unexpectedly, he'd just smiled, reached for his hand and let Harry lead the way.

The sun had nearly sunk away completely, the sky a melted miscellany of fading pinks and oranges. There was a chill to the air which seeped through their thin shirts and nipped at Harry's cheeks, Draco quickly dispelled it with a warming charm.

They came to a group of trees and plonked themselves beneath a large oak trunch. The grass had a slight dew and Harry wrinkled his nose as he felt the damp permeate through his trousers, causing them to chafe his skin.

"Sorry," He said, breaking the silence, "I didn't realise how cold it would be."

Draco shook his head to dismiss Harry's rising guilt and looked at the space between their crossed legs, where their hands lay intertwined.

"So, is everything okay?" Asked Draco, a frosty puff of air escaping his pink lips.

Harry sighed and scrubbed his forehead with his sleeve, trying to pull his thoughts together.

"Hermione thinks I need to try more in school." He said jadedly. He'd half expected Draco to scoff or laugh out in agreement, instead he sat listening attentively, blinking lightly with his fair lashes. "She thinks it's irresponsible of me to select what subjects to try in, and ..what not to try in."

Draco inhaled through his pointed nose and Harry noticed how his jaw worked while he thought.

"Well how do you feel about that? I mean..is there a specific reason why you put more emphasis on particular subjects?" Draco asked with a tilt of his head, his expression unreadable but still gentle.

"Some are just easier I guess." Harry replied, scratching the back of his head. He knew that wasn't entirely truthful, and if Draco's slightly arched brow was anything to go on, he knew too. But he didn't press Harry, which was something endlessly refreshing. He just sat patiently, picking the loose thread on Harry's sleeve. "And it's a..sort of habit."

Draco peered up at Harry through icy eyes, the corners of his mouth were turned up into a soft smile that said 'yes, you can tell me' and Harry felt a welcome warmth travel through his stomach.

"I was raised by my aunt and uncle," He began with an involuntary shudder, Draco responded by gripping Harry sleeve and nodding slowly. "They used to say things..about me and...and my parents. I never knew how to cope with hearing it. I'd either let my anger build until I made something explode accidentally..or I'd say something back, which would just get me punished."

Draco's hand curled round Harry's wrist at the word 'punished' and an air of understanding fizzled between them, Harry was sure that Draco had gone through different things to himself but the pang of fear caused by the mention of getting into trouble seemed to be mutual.

Harry let out a shaky breath and squeezed Draco's hands reassuringly. "So to avoid all that, I had to learn how to tune out. To block out any sound completely and surround myself with other thoughts. It took...a while. But eventually I did it, I blocked out any insults or jibes at my mum and dad whenever I could. It was like my coping mechanism..my silent rebellion.

So when I came to Hogwarts and was taught things I didn't understand, or by people I didn't like, I would just automatically switch off."

Draco smiled despite the vexation that was clearly beginning to bubble inside him. "Sounds to me like you're suffering from an extremely pressing case of just being a normal teenager."

Harry smiled and sighed in relief.

 _A normal teenager._ That's all he'd wanted to be, and when he was around Draco it felt possible, despite the floating sensation in his stomach the rest of him felt extremely grounded. Draco didn't treat him like he was breakable, and it was strangely liberating.

Harry slumped against the tree and Draco moved to sit beside him, their locked hands now in Harry's lap so he could play with Draco's nimble fingers, something he'd realised was rather soothing. Draco lay his head back and exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed so his lashes brushed over the faint rings beneath his eyes. Harry watched him for a while, feeling at peace with the world slowing around him. The sky was now a deep purple, with a smattering of dark blue creeping across its vast canvas.

A pale lock of hair had fallen over Draco's face, the tip just sweeping above his upper lip. Harry reached forward and brushed it behind Draco's ear tentatively, a rush of affection surging through his chest as Draco leaned into the touch.

"Draco?" He asked, his voice raspy.

Draco hummed deeply, his eyes still closed.

"What are we?" Harry asked, slightly apprehensively. He'd been pondering the question for three days and kept it to himself, not wanting to scare Draco away or assume anything. Just because Draco asked him out that wasn't an invitation to swoop in and publicly woo him.

Draco's eyes blinked open and he peered at Harry almost skeptically. "Whatever you want us to be." He said, it sounded like the close of the conversation but also left it extremely open. Like he wanted Harry to know he was allowed time to think, time to decide. But time was something Harry was rather unfamiliar with; from days packed with gruelling chores and unending misery, to quickly having to adapt to a whole other life of magic and decisions about the future, to wondering whether he'd actually live to _see_ the future. Harry's concept of time had always been either a feeling of eternal suffering, or the sense that life is clipped and cruel.

"Don't put that decision _all_ on me." He said, half-joking half-serious.

"Alright," Murmured Draco, turning to face Harry and propping himself up to lean on his slender arm. Draco watched Harry for a moment, drinking in his appearance, or rather trying to read his expression. Harry gestured for Draco to continue with an urgent look crossing his features. Draco smirked playfully, "Well, if it was up to me..I'd.." His voice faltered as he trailed off, his eyes tracking their way down to Harry's lips. Harry's mouth went dry as he saw Draco's face shift from playful and relaxed to something more serious, more _desperate_.

Harry leaned in closer, almost testing the waters, and Draco's breath hitched at their nearing proximity. Harry let out a breathy laugh as the lock of blonde hair fell over Draco's face once more, he brushed it away tenderly and left his hand on the nape of Draco's neck. Their noses were almost touching and Harry could feel the hot mingling breath between them.

It was Draco who spoke first, looking apprehensive, "Can I-"

He was cut off by Harry surging forward and smashing their lips together. It was clumsy and lopsided as he tipped Draco's head back gently to capture his lips more fully. Harry licked Draco's lips beteen breaths and Draco opened his mouth slightly, allowing Harry's tongue to slip inside. It soon went from sweet and gentle to wet and sloppy, but incredible all the same.

Draco's hand was tangled in Harry's thick hair when they broke apart, both panting and equally exhilarated. Harry couldn't keep the inexplicably large grin from taking over his face. He reached out and traced Draco's lower lip with his thumb, a knot of affection pressing on his chest at the swollen appearance of Draco's well-kissed lips.

"That was my first kiss." Draco admitted quietly, the pink tinge of his cheeks and the end of his nose irresistibly adorable.

It didn't surprise Harry, he'd only ever kissed one person. It had been a fumbly and extremely awkward kiss he'd shared with Cho Chang in his fourth year. At that point he was still grappling with the attraction he felt to -her now boyfriend- Cedric Diggory. He'd still been holding onto the hope that he'd kiss a girl and everything would align itself, he'd suddenly find women's curves alluring and look at quidditch magazines purely for the articles. But it had been dry and dissatisfying as their chapped lips had mashed together. Since then he'd been rather afraid to kiss _anyone,_ worried that he was just exceptionally bad at it. The singular experience had tainted his view of what true desire could actually result in.

Harry smiled and leaned forward to leave a wet kiss on Draco's cold cheek. He inhaled against Draco's skin, it smelt of lavender and sandalwood and dew. He stood up on his numb legs and extended his hand to Draco who was staring up at him.

"C'mon, boyfriend." Harry said with a smirk.

Draco rolled his eyes and accepted Harry's hand, using it to pull himself up to his lanky height. "Soppy git."

They began the walk back up to the castle, each shivering, but sporting equally large smiles.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: This chapter includes slightly more detail about mental health, I do have experience of it so this is vaguely based off of my own experience and the experiences of those around me. For those of you wanting some angst, I promise it's coming soon, I just wanted to write some chapters where they're together first. I hope you're still enjoying and thank you for reading thus far! I'm rambling I know, but I wanted to thank 'coolspygirl' for adding my story to her Drarry community 'Drarry the world's gift to us.' That meant a lot, especially since this is my first go at writing fanfiction. Right, I'll shut up now, enjoy the chapter! :)**

"Today's lesson will consist purely of taking down notes," Snape said, through gritted teeth. He swept a hand through his thick hair, which was matted down with grease, and continued, "it seems that some of us still haven't got to grips with the antidotes we discussed earlier this term." His eyes scanned over the class and hovered momentarily on Neville Longbottom, in the most degrading way possible. Neville squirmed under Snape's gaze and chewed his bottom lip nervously. Snape simply scowled and continued, "then again it would seem that some of us haven't understood a _single thing_ I've taught since day one of _first year_." He said this with a pointed glance at Harry who's cheeks instantly bloomed in a red flush.

Snape turned to the chalkboard, his robes billowing round him, and began to scratch out some titles of discussion points. Draco winced at the merciless dragging of chalk across the squeaky board and turned to look at Harry, who already had his head resting tiredly on his knuckle.

Draco instantly recalled Harry's uncontrollable tendency to switch off in the face of monotonous activity so reached under the desk to squeeze his other hand. Harry turned to him with a questioning look.

"Hey Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I have a feeling that this lesson could possibly be a bit.." Draco trailed off, searching for a word that wasn't so condescending that it would make Harry feel like a child, back under the thumb of his cruel aunt and uncle. "Um..boring. We could study..together..later, if you want?"

Draco expected Harry to shrivel up and back away from him, affronted by Draco's suggestion that he was incapable of taking down or understanding simple notes. He instantly wanted to retract his offer as a tight coil of regret began embedding itself in his stomach.

Harry looked to the front of the class, reviewing the titles Snape had written down, and instantly groaned at the second one which read; _The exceptions to the usage of a Bezoar as an antidote to poison._ He couldn't possibly imagine anything more arduous to learn.

He turned back to Draco and his face brightened, "Yeah, that'd be really good, actually."

Draco smiled and blew out a shaky breath, giving Harry's hand one last encouraging squeeze before retracting his own and picking up his quill. He needed to work on his tendency to overthink, Pansy had previously told him that it was a result of his deep insecurities his father had implemented within him. She told him this when she'd self-diagnosed him with anxiety in their fourth year. Draco had scoffed and told her to piss right off, until he lay awake that evening for the third week in a row and over analysed everything in his life. He realised that he was exuding much of the nervous energy she'd described on her list on symptoms, and he sometimes did subconsciously skip meals, in favour of digging deeper into the pit of self-deprecating thoughts situated in the depths of his mind.

He wrote down the subheading on his parchment and couldn't help but smile as he felt Harry relax beside him, having already tuned out Professor Snape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hello Draco dear." Said Pansy cheerfully, as he entered the common room that evening.

He returned the smile and acknowledged his other classmates who were sprawled out over the dark green couches. "Greg, Vince, Blaise."

He looked around before sitting down between Blaise and Pansy. "Where's Theo?" He asked skeptically, it was unlike the Slytherins to be gallivanting the halls after dinner. Pansy sat up enthusiastically and draped her legs across Draco's lap.

"It would seem that Theo's experience with Blaise was a bit of an eye opener." She said with a smirk. Draco's mouth formed an 'o' as he tried to guess what boy Theo could possibly be involved with. Pansy leaned forward, clearly intuitive to his thoughts; "Wood."

"Oliver Wood?" Spluttered Draco, "Theo is macking all over Oliver Wood, a bloody Gryffindor!?"

Blaise nudged him right in the ribs, "You're dating a Gryffindor, you prick."

Draco stilled and brushed a hand through his hair, "Shit. What has the world come to?" He groaned, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists.

Pansy perked up even more at the mention of Harry, "Oh yes, and how are things going with Potter?"

Draco looked down at her slender legs spread across his lap, Blaise had his hand wrapped around her ankle and began absent mindedly rubbing Pansy's purple socked foot.

"He's coming here to study tonight."

"Oooh, we'll be sure to vacate the premises." Squealed Pansy.

"That _won't_ be necessary." Draco drawled, scoffing at the disappointment that crossed her haughty features. "Although, I do think another party, or gathering of some sort, might be beneficial."

Pansy had closed her eyes, relaxed at Blaise's thumbs gently kneading above her heel. "And why would that be?"

"House unity." Draco replied with an assured smile.

Pansy opened one eye and peered at him skeptically. "Draco Malfoy wants house unity?"

Draco groaned, "Look Pans, if I really want things to work out between Harry and I it would be prudent for me to get along with his friends. I barely know them and don't much fancy approaching them myself, so something that forces them to get to know me is vital."

Pansy practically glowed as she sat up and ruffled his hair. "My little boys all grown up," She said with a wistful look. "Leave it to me darling, a nice little get together should do the trick." She stood and offered her hand out to Blaise, "C'mon, we've got some planning to do."

Blaise took her small hand in his own without hesitation and they headed towards the door.

"Where are you going exactly?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Library," chirped Pansy, clearly pleased she had a task to perform, "don't want to be down here when it gets heated between you and Potter tonight." She flashed him a cheeky grin over her shoulder before leaving with Blaise in tow. Greg and Vince shared a look but continued their game of chess silently.

Draco smiled, knowing that Vine and Greg were quiet, but definitely not as dumb as they made out to be. They were always listening attentively but soundlessly, this meant people were more prone to talk freely in front of them, believing the two to be thick in the head and unconcerned with the business of others. Draco commended them for it on occasion, as it was very Slytherin-y of them.

He swung his legs round to prop them up on the couch and grabbed the previous day's edition of the daily prophet that was lying on the coffee table beside him. He found he couldn't properly absorb the information though, as he was too busy listening out for the knock on the portrait that would soon sound.

Harry had stumbled down to the dungeons at 7:38, with a flustered apology to Draco for being late. Draco had shaken his head and smiled fondly, instantly dragging Harry to his dorm.

"It's nice in here." Harry said, his hair looking unkempt. Draco wanted so desperately to run his fingers through the soft mass. He reminded himself that he was actually allowed to do that now.

"Is it much different to the Gryffindor dorms?"

"Not really," Said Harry absently, slumping onto Draco's bed and taking in the rest of the room, "just much more green I s'pose."

Draco hummed. Harry began unpacking his bag and Draco noticed he was looking especially delicious, his hair wildly covering his bright eyes, and the faint red blush peeking through his lovely tan skin. Draco reached out and brushed a hand through the mop of dark hair, breathing out serenely at the velvety texture brushing past his fingers. Harry turned to capture Draco's lips eagerly, and Draco's mouth opened in turn, allowing Harry's tongue to sweep over his teeth with a moan. Their tongue's passed over each other with open mouthed pants, their warm breaths steaming up the lower rim of Harry's glasses. It was with great reluctance that they broke apart. They were getting better at this, Draco mused.

"I suppose we really should study." Harry practically grumbled. Draco gave him a fond peck on the ear and grabbed his potions book off of his bedside table. His notes were neatly folded inside.

"So how much did you manage to get down?" Draco asked, trying his very best not to sound patronising. Harry trusted him and he'd be damned if he ruined it.

"Er. Well.." Harry trailed off and pointed at parchment, half-covered in almost illegible scrawl.

"Ah I see, so you know about the use of a bezoar as an antidote?" Harry nodded. "So we need to start with the rare situations in which it can't be; such as in the case of basilisk venom. Okay."

Harry poised his quill and watched Draco attentively.

"Well firstly; the venom of a Basilisk is extremely potent, and can spread through one's entire body within the space of two minutes."

Harry snorted and scribbled this beneath a subheading. "I should know." He mumbled.

"So - y-what?" Draco stared wide eyed.

"The Basilisk from second year." Harry said, as though it were the most casual thing in the world. His face became contorted as he noticed Draco was still looking at him cluelessly. "It..well it got me."

"It..what?"

"I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew."

"We knew you fought it but..bloody hell Harry." Draco breathed, his face an expression of horror.

Harry shook his head dismissively and avoided Draco's eye. "It was ages ago."

Draco took this as an end to the story and decided to go back to the topic at hand. "So..yeah. The venom is deadly and can last for nearly five years." Harry dutifully scratched this out, looking up at Draco between sentences, almost as though he was making sure he was still there. "A bezoar works with most poisons, but no poison is as long lasting nor as deadly. Theoretically, a bezoar could work in the short term to hold the poison off, but I'm quite sure that that's already been investigated at St Mungo's. To no avail of course, it's not as though they've got much to test it on."

Harry wrote all of this, and some extra notes at the sides, Draco assumed they were the type of reminders he often referred back to in class. Harry looked up when he'd finished his sentence and all of a sudden appeared to be exhausted. Draco had only just noticed the purple ghosting beneath his eyes, and the hollowness of his cheeks.

"We can stop there for today, if you'd like." Harry gave a small nod. Draco knew himself how draining looking back at the past can be, he did it every night. It was an endless whirlpool that sucked him in every so often, one that could sometimes take weeks at a time to climb out of, if only with the help of Pansy and Blaise and a few letters to his mother. But then, he supposed, that's part of what mental illness is; a prison of one's own creation, that is much easier to build than it is to escape.

Of course there were a number of outside factors that affected his anxious and depressive tendencies, but his poisonous cycle of thought had never been much of a help. But Pansy told him it wasn't his fault. Sometimes that was hard to believe when his stomach grumbled and his head pounded. Sometimes it was easier to believe when his father called him a failure. Sometimes he didn't want to believe anything at all.

"How do you feel?" Draco asked, almost surprising himself.

Harry cocked his head to one side. "About what?"

"Anything."

Harry worried his bottom lip and breathed in sharply. "Well...I think it's gross when people hit on others when it's unwarranted..but then I think that maybe I'm just not attractive enough to get hit on..but then I think that I'm stupid because that's irrational."

Draco gave a low hum. "Sounds pretty rational to me. I mean..from a perspective of complete irrationality."

Harry laughed breathily, pulling at a loose thread on his jeans. "What do you think?"

"About what?" Draco asked, mirroring Harry's earlier response.

"Everything."

Draco smirked. "It's shit."

Harry barked out a laugh and shifted to sit beside Draco, leaning back against the bedpost. He laced their fingers together, smoothing his index finger over the side of Draco's thumb.

"I like this," Harry mused, "being alone with you. Like this. Feels like I've got you all to myself."

Draco smiled warmly. "That's because you have, Harry."

They sat together this way for quite some time, listening to one another's breathing, Draco's soft and pacey, Harry's deep and steady. These were the moments that Draco enjoyed the most. The ones when they were together but not busy. The ones when no one was judging or listening or expecting them to be anything other than two teenage boys. The ones when they could just simply be, Draco and Harry.


	18. Chapter 18

"Did y'hear, Pansy Parkinsons having another party?"

It was dusk. Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of Gryffindor house were relaxing in the common room, all exhausted as was usual for a Friday evening. Seamus had plonked himself next to Dean on the plushy armchair facing the couch, his face was lit up with excitement in the glow of the fire.

"It's not a party Seamus, it's a gathering," Said Hermione, who'd finally closed the text book she'd been reading for hours. "And I'd keep my voice down if I were you, only a select few have been invited."

Seamus' shoulders crowded up towards his ear as he leaned in closer, as though sharing something highly secretive. "It'll soon turn into a party, trust me. That Parkinson is mad." He said, with much less venom than admiration.

Hermione shook her head incredulously. "Seamus, you were in an unbelievable state the day after Pansy's _first_ party. You fell asleep during charms, remember?"

Seamus put a hand to his chest in mock indignation while Dean chortled beside him. The look of fondness plastered over Dean's face was something Harry had now identified as much more than a response to friendship. In fact he suspected that Dean and Seamus had been together for quite some time, and took a moment to marvel at how much help a good week's worth of sleep can actually do.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest some more but stopped abruptly when Ron placed a gentle hand on her knee. She seemed to relax some, then leaned back and placed her head of curls on his shoulder.

Harry was happy as long as his friends were, but something like jealousy seemed to bubble up inside of him. He wanted to be like this with Draco. Be able to casually lean against him or wrap an arm around his lanky frame. He knew his friends didn't mind, and he'd been able to enter the Slytherin common room unscathed. But he wondered how the Gryffindors would react to a snake entering their territory. Contrary to popular belief it wasn't the Slytherins who were against new people. Yes they took awhile to trust others, but after you were accepted it was a pretty safe environment. As long as you didn't piss them off, that is.

But the Gryffindors _were_ territorial. Harry had always understood why a lion was their mascot. They were proud and protective of their own, any whiff of potential treachery and you were shooed out faster than you could defend yourself. Once you were a part of the group it was a different story, you were cared for and defended infinitely. It was just the initial hurdle of gaining their favour that was difficult, and Harry had a hunch that Pansy was planning something.

"You alright Harry?" Asked Dean, his eyes glassy from the reflection of the fire. Everyone was peering at Harry with concern etched on their faces, he must have looked especially dazed during his reverie.

Harry hummed and gave an overly enthusiastic nod just to punctuate his point.

"He's just missing his secret Slytherin lover." Said Seamus, a cheeky grin stretched across his lips.

Harry's eyes widened in shock and he began spluttering incoherently. Seamus just laughed.

"Honestly Harry," Said Dean in a tone of disbelief, "Your staring at the Slytherin table during meal times was enough of an indication, let alone the hand holding in potions."

"And the secret love notes." Added Seamus.

"And the winking in the corridors."

"And the-"

"Alright!" Harry quipped defensively, "You guys are all happy..so..why can't I be?"

"That's just it Harry, we _want_ you to be happy." Said Dean, standing up and stretching his arms. Seamus' eyes trailed down to the slither of skin exposed by his shirt that was riding up. Harry smirked at Seamus, pleased that he'd caught him in the act, but Seamus simply raised a nonchalant eyebrow, sending his own smirk straight back.

"C'mon," Seamus Said, tugging on Dean's sleeve, "I'm hungry." Although he said this with casual confidence, Harry still noticed a pink flush heating his cheeks.

Dean allowed himself to be tugged away by Seamus, stopping to give Harry a firm clap on the shoulder. Harry shot him a smile, feeling considerably more relaxed now that everything seemed out in the open.

Harry watched the two boys leave, then turned back to Ron and Hermione at the sound of the portrait closing. "Well, they've obviously gone off to snog in a secret alcove." He said dryly, although he was still smiling, the warmth of the fire like a blanket on his skin.

Ron raised a brow surrounded by brown freckles, "Oh c'mon mate. An alcove? They'll just be in the corridor." Harry and Hermione chorused a laugh, while the latter snuggled further into Ron, lying her head on his chest.

"How long have you known about Pansy's gathering, Harry?" Asked Hermione.

"Oh, Draco mentioned it yesterday. It's just a casual thing I think."

Hermione hummed contemplatively, clearly weighing up the pros and cons of attending in her mind.

Ron glanced at her, curled up beneath him, and smiled. "We'll be there." He said.

Harry nodded, wondering when he'd gotten so lucky.

XXXXXX

Draco heard a sharp knock at the portrait door and instantly sprung up from his seat. He dashed over to the mirror and began flattening his hair self consciously, and made his way over to the entrance. Pansy put a hand on his arm before he could let the caller in.

"Steady on dear, it's just Blaise with more food." She said, her eyes softening at his flustered appearance. "Go sit down, and _breathe."_

Draco nodded and headed back over to the couch, sitting on it rigidly to avoid rumpling his clothes. Pansy flashed him an encouraging smile before pulling back the portrait.

Sure enough, Blaise stepped through, followed by two floating platters of sandwiches, crisps and sausage rolls.

"Hang on," Draco said, furrowing his brow, "why didn't you just use the password?"

"Because I wanted to see your face when you realised I wasn't Potter," Drawled Blaise, smirking. "Thanks for giving the game away Pans." He added, gently shoving Pansy.

Pansy scoffed and sat by Draco, wrapping an arm round his back. "You _know_ how nervous he gets Blaise, don't be cruel." She said, her nose turning up in a snooty look of disapproval.

Blaise muttered an apology and laid the trays on the table between the couches. "Soon enough this room is going to be crawling with Gryffindors, I need some form of release before the onslaught."

Pansy sniffed, "Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw, actually." Blaise raised a dark brow in question. "Luna Lovegood. Harry's quite fond of her."

Blaise pursed his lips and grabbed a silver pitcher, filling it with icy water from his wand. Draco smirked at him, he was clearly only partaking in setting up to please Pansy. Blaise sighed, as though reading Draco's mind.

Draco cast a quick tempus, 7:30.

"Everything will be fine Draco, I promise." Pansy said, kneeling in front of him and covering his hand with her own. "You're in for a fun night of real house unity."

He laughed dryly, house unity seemed to be a big part of his life these days.

Draco sat and watched while Pansy and Blaise set up lamps around the common room, the yellow light warming the blueish tinge of the space considerably. They also placed a record player on a desk in the corner, the voices of the weird sisters echoing off of the stone walls. Greg and Vince were in the corner playing exploding snap and Millicent was reading in bed, pointedly avoiding the Gryffindor gathering.

"Theo must be with Wood." Draco mused.

Pansy nodded vacantly, she was busy draping blankets over the opposite couch. Draco supposed she was trying to cosy up the room to better suit their guests. She looked up at him and smirked, "must be something about those Gryffindors."

Draco let out a breathy laugh, twining his fingers together in his lap. _Must be._

A knock sounded from outside the entrance for the second time, however Draco remained seated, wanting to seem collected.

Pansy opened the portrait to the rowdy bunch and ushered them in with a smile. Finnigan was the first to enter, sauntering over to the snack-laden table with Thomas in tow. Granger and Weasley settled on the couch, Granger looking particularly apprehensive. Draco was surprised when Longbottom strode towards him purposefully.

He'd filled out through the years, his frame now much more angled than pudgy. Draco noticed he had a rather pretty face, with dark lashes and a warm smile. He held out his hand to Draco, and looked slightly surprised when Draco shook it.

"I've been an arse." Draco murmured, ensuring no one else could hear.

"That's true, and I'm sure you'll continue to be." Neville said, with a friendly grin. Draco smiled back and Neville turned to sit on the floor next to Lovegood.

Harry weaved his way around his fellow Gryffindors. He looked gorgeous wearing a red t-shirt and tight muggle jeans that hugged his legs, Draco felt his mouth water. Harry pressed a sweet kiss to Draco's nose and he couldn't help but feel his heart swell in adoration.

Draco was sure he heard Blaise scoff, before Pansy thwacked him and muttered; "shush. It's adorable."

Harry and Draco sat on the sofa, Harry's arm looping round Draco's waist almost protectively.

"I'm rather shocked at the lack of firewhiskey." Hermione mused.

Pansy gave her a tart look from where she was tucked in beside Blaise, "You underestimate me Granger."

Seamus' face lit up at this, and he gave Dean a jab with his elbow, wiggling his eyebrows. Dean rolled his eyes and smiled warmly.

"Does it get cold down here?" Asked Luna, in that dreamy tone of hers.

"A bit." Said Draco, "we usually have to pool our warming charms together."

Luna hummed thoughtfully, "Wrackspurts have been known to dwell in cooler areas. Before finding a head to inhabit, of course."

Blaise cocked his head to one side, "Wrackspurts?"

"Tiny creatures." Luna conceded, "they float into your head and make your brain go fuzzy."

The portrait door swung open before Draco could ask whether he had any wrackspurts buzzing around his mind, he certainly felt like it. Theo, the girl Weasley, and the Patil twins filtered into the common room. Draco shot a questioning look at Pansy, she shrugged.

Ginny Weasley had harboured a crush for Harry since first year, everyone knew that. Draco felt his body tense as he breathed in sharply, if anyone was going to give him a difficult time, it would have to be her. Everything had seemed suspiciously easy thus far.

Harry must have sensed his anxiousness because his hold on Draco tightened, his hand came round to cup Draco's and he smoothed his thumb over Draco's palm soothingly. Draco felt himself melt into Harry's touch, a calming wave passed over him as he reminded himself to focus on breathing.

"What's up with the gatecrashing?" Blaise asked, his voice laced with a touch of venom.

One of the Patil twins, Draco wasn't sure which, shrugged. "It's a party right?"

"Yeah," said Harry, beginning to laugh, "and _I_ heard that Seamus told Ron that Dean told Parvati that it was an open invitation."

Ron snorted, laughing through the sip of water he was taking.

"Alright." Interrupted Pansy, with a clap of her hands. She stood and made her way over to a chest in the corner of the room, flicking it open with her wand. "If this really is a party," she pulled out two glass bottles filled with golden liquid, "then we might as well get it started."

Seamus raced across the room to snatch up one of the bottles. "Parkinson I could kiss you."

"Please don't." Pansy replied with a faint grimace. She flicked her wand at the record player and the volume increased until the room was thumping along to the music.

Everyone made their way past the couches, to the emptier side of the room. Even Greg and Vince paused their game for a drink. Harry stood and offered his hand to Draco, who took it without question.

Draco felt slightly unsure about the more intimate party, but with Harry's reassuring warmth and charming smile, he couldn't be too unhappy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco wasn't sure how it happened, but it had.

Everyone had been drinking rather liberally, Finnigan in particular was so very drunk that Thomas had taken to propping him up like a dribbling puppet. Pansy had also drunk rather a lot, but she knew her limit and she'd stuck to it.

It was Padma - no, Parvati - who'd suggested they play spin the bottle. So Blaise had placed an empty Firewhiskey bottle in the middle of them all, as they shuffled to form a circle around it. It looked like they were worshipping it. Like a cult.

Draco hadn't drunk much. He couldn't. Not with Weasley - girl Weasley - surveying him so closely. He wasn't sure whether he was imagining her burning gaze, so hot it matched her fiery hair. It could have been paranoia, but every vein itching with anxiety screamed at Draco that it couldn't be. Your imagination can't make you squirm.

So he'd stayed at Harry's hip like a rash, clinging to him as though he was the very air keeping Draco alive. It was a lot. Everything all at once; the party, the music, the drinking, the staring, the sweat. He couldn't pinpoint when he'd began hyperventilating but his chest had assumed that grating burn that seized his body beyond control.

So there they all were, laughing in a clumsy circle while Draco stared at any space empty enough. Willing himself to calm, to think rationally. But it's hard to think rationally when all you can think about is the fact that you need to think rationally.

The bottle had spun and Draco barely heard Thomas' low whistle and Blaise's "You're up, Potter."

He felt Harry's warmth leave his side and his lungs constricted, gasping for air. His knuckles turned numb with the sheer force of his grip on the bundle of jumper in his fist. His favourite jumper that he had now stretched beyond fitting him even moderately.

His head snapped up at the heat of Pansy's concerned stare, she must have sobered a little, but he didn't have time to think on it too long because he'd looked up and there was Harry and Ginny, tangled together all fire and ash. She was blushing and squeaking and Harry's nose was squished and before Draco knew it he was on his feet, his numb legs carrying him away.

He vaguely remember Harry, calling after him with grunts of "Fuck, no - wait."

The memories spun on a nauseating carousel as he sat on his bed, clutching his legs to his quickly rising chest. Rising and falling. He felt the bed dip and soon enough Pansy's crop of hair was tickling his nose as she held him, held him so tightly he wondered if it was even possible to let go.

"Breathe." She whispered, "You need to breathe."

So he did. It was shaky and he choked with the pain uncoiling in his stomach. But as he focused only on the rise and fall of his chest it gradually evened out. His eyes were screwed closed and Pansy placed a tender kiss to his lashes.

When he opened them he saw blurs. And it was only then he knew he was crying. It felt as though he'd been yanked out of thrashing water, as sound and feeling rushed back all too quickly.

He smelt Pansy's perfume like candy, and heard Blaise's voice booming out like thunder, "Right all of you get out right now, oi I said fuck off alright. HE'S FINE, JUST GO!"

It was probably the girl Weasley who was refusing to leave. She probably wanted to apologise. She probably hadn't meant to cause any harm. It was probably just Draco's mind ruining things for him again.

He sighed. He'd been wrong this entire time. It wasn't Harry who would cause his demise. It was himself.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: This is the final chapter so there'll be more notes at the end. But I hope you enjoy the ending!:)**

It was Tuesday, and Draco had successfully avoided Harry for two whole days. He wasn't up to talking about how he was feeling, so Blaise and Pansy hadn't pushed him, just sat with him by the fire toasting marshmallows that were far too burnt to eat.

He knew what today meant, apparently so did the bottomless pit in his stomach. Potions. He could skip class but that would mean sitting in the common room alone, with only his thoughts for company, and that didn't seem any less scary.

Blaise subtly pushed a plate of sliced orange in Draco's eye line as he reached for more toast, Draco pretended not to notice. He clenched his hand into a fist beneath the table and unclenched it, transfixed by the redness of his knuckles. He'd been scratching them the night before, unable to sleep and looking for some distraction. The one below his index finger had bled.

Pansy reached for a slice of orange and bit into it ungracefully, as though hoping Draco would follow by example. He took a sip of water instead, showing his friends he was at least hydrated. The water was cold and rattled his teeth.

"Draco, if you're not up to classes today Blaise and I will skip with you." Said Pansy, opening up her empty palm to him, her eyes begging him to take it.

He did. He squeezed her hand gently and mustered the best smile he could, despite the quivering of his cheeks. "I'm fine."

Pansy didn't look satisfied with this answer but she knew better than to argue with him when he was like this. Because he'd push her away out of spite. And even though he'd regret it later, he'd be far too stubborn to ask her to come back.

XXXXXX

Harry's eyes had been glued to the door unblinkingly, and he almost choked out in relief when Draco came through the door, Pansy and Blaise flanking him protectively.

He decided to turn back to the front, not wanting to startle him, and poised his quill as though he'd been writing.

Draco sat down reluctantly, on shaky limbs like a newborn foal. Harry had to resist reaching out and clutching Draco's hand to his own erratically humming chest. He glanced at him quickly, to see Draco avoiding his eye all together. It stung like rubbing alcohol on a fresh wound.

Draco was attempting to peek at Harry's parchment, distressed by the empty chalkboard at the front of the class. Harry's arm was already covering the title and he could physically see Draco's body fighting against the need to ask him-

"What are we making?" He choked out.

Harry turned to face him, a crease between his brows as he tried to force out as much friendliness as possible, "confusing concoction."

Draco breathed in sharply, "that's a third year potion." He said through tight lips.

"I know, but we've finished all of the practical for this first term, so Snape wants us to perfect some of the potions we previously failed on."

"I didn't fail."

"I know. I did. And so did Neville."

Harry saw Draco purse his lips, he was probably trying to restrain from barking out some snarky comment. Harry wished he wouldn't. He felt he deserved it.

"Draco," Harry said hesitantly, "look, about the other night."

Draco flinched as though he'd been slapped. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I do."

"Shame, that."

Harry sighed. He wished Draco would stop being stubborn so they could talk, so he could apologise for being careless and stupid and so very himself.

"Please." Harry all but whimpered.

Draco's eyes fluttered shut and his nostrils pinched as he inhaled. "I can't. Not yet."

XXXXXX

A shiver wracked through Harry's body as he stood outside the Slytherin common room, regretting the thin t-shirt he'd chosen to wear. He willed someone to answer so he could at least be relieved of the cold.

The tall, burly knight inside of the portrait glowered at him.

"Password?"

"Umm. I'm not sure. I've been let in before, though."

He gave a stilted laugh and Harry suddenly felt much smaller.

The door opened slightly, and Pansy's face poked through the sliver.

"Potter."

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"Pansy, please,"

She held her hand up to halt him, revealing a bit more of herself and the room behind. "It's not that I don't want to let you in, I just can't, not yet. Okay?"

He nodded despite the sinking feeling that plummeted from his chest to his stomach. She smiled sympathetically then retreated behind the closing door.

Harry leant against the wall, sliding down to sit cross legged on the floor. His face was the epitome of defeat but his posture was still determined.

He'd sit here forever if he had to.

XXXX

Another day of classes went by and Harry was trying to become accustomed to Draco's icy stare, one that slipped away as soon as Harry tried to meet it with his own.

The warmth from the fire did little to aid his glacial stomach. The common room was far too cheery for his liking, so he slipped out and headed towards the dungeons.

He knocked and waited for less time than the previous day, but was still met with Pansy's sympathetic smile and apologies.

He slunk against the wall again, trying to adapt to the hard stone against his bum.

XXXX

He brought a blanket with him the third time, but didn't knock. Just set himself up in the same place as the previous evenings with a text book propped up on his lap.

"Now that is just depressing." Harry looked up and was met with Blaise's pitying gaze. He wasn't sure how much time had passed but his arse had already lost all feeling.

"You're telling me."

XXXX

The fourth night he brought a pillow to sit on, as well as the blanket and the book. He'd fought with Ron and Hermione who were insisting he should stop falling asleep on the stone. But he'd gotten used to the soreness in the mornings, it was Draco's denial of his existence that hurt more.

XXXX

The fifth night he brought hot chocolate to sip as he sat and pretended to read about the extraction of Hellebore syrup.

But before he could feel the cold seep through his skin, Pansy came out of the common room and eyed him carefully.

"I'm only doing this because I feel sorry for you." She said, nodding towards the door she was holding open.

Harry shot up, a spark of hope blazing through him. He lunged forward and kissed her cheek roughly.

"I can't guarantee he'll talk to you Potter."

"I know, I know. Thank you." He said, a tad breathless.

XXXX

Draco heard a soft tap at his door and assumed it was Pansy coming back with the tea she'd set of to get. Before he could slap himself for not considering how quick she'd been, he opened the door with his wand.

Harry stood in the frame, the light from the common room illuminating his gentle edges. Draco's breath caught and his fingers became rigid around his book.

"Can I come in?" He asked, so quietly it was like a whisper, or a mistake.

Draco nodded, ignoring his tightening throat.

Harry padded over to his bed and sat right at the end, his body awkward and tense. They both sat with bated breath, waiting for the other to speak.

"Blaise tells me you've been camping outside the door." Said Draco, his voice coming out hoarse and strained. Harry nodded sheepishly, his cheeks blooming with red.

"I just wanted to talk to you. Or er - listen - actually. Because I thought that maybe..er."

"You thought that I could tell you what you'd done wrong?"

Harry's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He nodded carefully, as though he was trying not to startle a small animal.

"It's not the first time." Draco admitted, in a small voice.

Harry looked at him, green eyes brimming with hope and questions and - fuck - this was hard. Draco had to continue, had to explain. Or else it wouldn't make sense and he'd be stupid.

"Sometimes people upset me..by doing something small..so small it seems.." He trailed off. This really was hard.

"Unimportant?" Harry supplied.

Draco nodded. His throat was dry and when he swallowed his saliva felt like a razor scraping down his neck.

"But if something upsets you...then it isn't unimportant, Draco. It can't be. Because it hurt some buried part of you and ignoring that will only make it worse."

Draco felt pathetic. "I guess so."

Harry moved to gently cover his hand, their skin ghosting over one another, all gooseflesh and fine hair. "So tell me exactly what I did, and I promise you I'll fix it."

Draco felt his stomach clench, and his mind was begging him not to say anything at all; to frustrate Harry so much that he'd up and leave and never come back. But he looked up and saw Harry's face, his thick furrowed brows that looked impossibly soft, and his eyes that shined like grass covered in dew at spring time. He had to be brave this time. He had to be brave like Harry.

"Weasley - Ginny - was staring at us. Or I thought she was. And I felt like I was under a microscope. And then you kissed her. Kissed her like you kiss me. And it hurt."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Ginny spoke to me about that, she was just shocked was all. She doesn't like me that way anymore. She uh..she actually has a crush on someone, I think. And as for the kiss.." He sighed. "It meant nothing. And I know that doesn't make it okay." He added, looking slightly hysterical. "But I hope it helps, somewhat. And I know it may have looked the same but kissing her was different, weird even. Like getting off with your cousin or something." He grimaced. "But kissing _you_.. _fuck._ Kissing you is like nothing that I even knew could be real."

Draco felt his cheeks heat, a single tear slipped down his face. It tasted salty. He wanted to smack himself for being so emotional. Harry swiped at it with his thumb.

"I get nervous sometimes." Draco said, the admission tearing up his insides like a thousand tiny cuts.

"I know." Said Harry, "I didn't know so much before, but I do know. And I want to know more. Everything, in fact. It's scary...I'm scared but - hey - I'll start, yeah?"

Draco looked up at him and felt warmth seeping through into his ribs.

"Okay."

"Well..erm let me see..Oh! I was raised by my shitty aunt and uncle and I was bullied by my shitty cousin. And sometimes when people talk about their families, the good ones, I get so mad I have to leave the room. Sometimes I go and break stuff. But other times I'll just...y'know. Cry."

"Ugly cry?" Draco asked, in an almost hopeful tone.

Harry laughed loudly. "Ugly cry."

They didn't talk about themselves again for the rest of the evening. Just lay tangled together, Harry peppering Draco's neck with kisses. Sharing each other's warmth.

XXXXX

Draco had to refrain from laughing when Harry tumbled into class on Monday, flustered as ever, his nest of hair falling into his face.

Snape's lip had peeled back in concealed pleasure as he informed Harry his tardiness had cost Gryffindor 15 points.

Harry smiled anyways and slumped down into his stool, giving Draco a quick peck on the cheek when Snape turned away.

It had been about four weeks since they'd made up and recently they'd taken to having long conversations every Sunday night. Pansy or Hermione - depending on who's room they settled in - would bring them two steamy mugs of tea, and they'd admit things to one another. It started off rather small and stupid, like which quidditch team they preferred (despite the fact they both already knew who the other supported), but gradually transitioned when Draco told Harry about the time his father had killed his pet snake to punish him. Then Harry had admitted to befriending a spider that lived in his cupboard - this was followed by an onslaught of questions about 'his cupboard' - that Dudley had promptly squashed.

They were more alike than Draco would ever have guessed, but where they differed it was striking. Harry's tan skin compared to Draco's milky complexion, down to Harry's bravery that eclipsed Draco's cowardly tendencies. Harry was like the Earth, strong and prone to helping others flourish, whereas Draco was a small flower. Meek but beautiful in its own right, brightening the ground around it whenever it became too dull.

So yes, sometimes they were very different, but what would the Earth be without its precious flowers?

Harry could put a stop to the ramblings of Draco's mind whenever they became too toxic, and Draco could distract Harry whenever his responsibilities became too heavy to carry alone. They made each other feel special, all while reminding the other that they were nothing _too_ special. Because occasionally it's better to remember that the world revolves around the sun, not a singular person. Your struggles will never stretch to infinity because the world doesn't pay that much attention to us, really.

Harry was there to snap Draco out of his reveries with a simple cough or the slam of a book. Draco was especially grateful in these moments.

He could contemplate coming out to his father and reaching out to his mother and the purpose of life and the end of the universe another day. But for now he had Harry. And for now that was more than enough, Draco supposed he'd always known that deep down.

"So," Harry said, with a smile warm enough to melt a glacier, "what are we brewing?"

Fin.

 **A/N: We made it! Thank you so much for reading this fic, I've thoroughly enjoyed writing it! I'm already beginning to write another with far more characters that will hopefully be political and funny and of course, romantic. It might take a while but I hope you all stick around until then! I appreciate any reviews, follows or favourites so much and hope you had fun reading all my ramblings!:)**


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